


I Would Have Followed You Anywhere

by winchester_in_the_tardis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Criminal!Lucifer, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel High School AU, Drug Use, Eventual Romance, HS AU, High School AU, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Plot, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, fluff later on, hurt!Dean, lots of emotional breakdowns, past mental breakdown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 50,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2315225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winchester_in_the_tardis/pseuds/winchester_in_the_tardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entering his senior year at Lawrence High, Dean has virtually given up on his future. His father thinks he's a disappointment, his friends won't talk to him and, worst of all, Castiel Novak, his former best friend who may or may not have been more than that can't even look him in the eye anymore. Will Dean lose himself completely, and will Cas be able to find the light to bring him back home? And, perhaps, will they be able to mend their ties in time to stop Cas's criminal brother?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rock Bottom

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is my first proper fic, so please tell me what you think! The first couple of chapters are a little short, but they soon get longer as the story goes on.  
> Warning: this is very, very angsty. If you don't like angst, you probably shouldn't read this fic. But, for those of you who do, I really hope you enjoy it!

The blasting sound of the music filled Dean's eardrums while the vibrations jolted the ground underneath his feet. He held his cup full of beer over his head so as not to spill it as he strained to search for Crowley. Some random kid tripped into him and, despite his efforts, his drink sloshed all over his front. He glared at the guy furiously, recognising him as Gabriel Novak, a guy from his Chemistry class. Dean tended to avoid Gabriel, mostly because of his family relations, but also because he was notorious for being a joking, pranking little shit who loved to annoy people.

  
"Dude, what the Hell?" he yelled over the music. Gabriel just raised his eyebrows, laughed and walked away.

  
"What a prick..." Dean muttered under his breath. He squinted over the crowd and finally spotted Crowley leaning against the opposite wall, talking to someone Dean didn't recognise. He pushed and shoved his way past people until he finally made it to Crowley, who acknowledged him with an approving nod before turning back to the guy he was talking to.

  
"Alastair, this is Dean, the guy I told you about."

  
The guy called Alastair pushed his blond hair out of his eyes and looked Dean up and down appraisingly. He had murky, grey eyes and a smirk that Dean immediately did not trust.

  
"He's in his senior year at Lawrence High School," Crowley explained to Alastair. Alastair nodded.

  
"I used to go there. I remember you. You're Dean Winchester, right?"

  
Dean nodded his affirmative.

  
"I was in senior year while you were in freshman year. Didn't you always hang out with that weird Castiel kid?"

  
Dean immediately froze, his cup halfway to his mouth.

  
"I used to, yes," he said, uneasily. Alastair didn't miss a beat.

  
"So you don't anymore, then?"

  
"No."

  
"Dropped him, then, did you?"

  
"Something like that."

  
At that, Dean took a huge gulp of alcohol to avoid those watery eyes, almost making himself choke.

  
"Let's talk about something more cheerful, shall we?" Crowley asked in his lilting English accent. "Alastair, did you get the stuff?"

  
"I most certainly did, my good man!" Alastair checked that nobody was looking, then pulled a clear bag full of white powder out of his pocket. Dean's eyes widened.

  
"Is that - is that what I think it is?"

  
"If you think it is cocaine, then yes, it is what you think it is," said Crowley plainly.

  
"Want to proceed to the bathroom and get this stuff inside us?" Alastair said, a question in his eyes as he looked at Dean.  
Part of Dean screamed not to. When you make decisions like this, you often don't go back. But Dean was hurting. He was always hurting. And he wanted to forget.

  
So he said yes.

 

 

The next morning, Dean groaned and rolled over in bed when his alarm blared at six fourty-five. He had gotten back at four thirty am, which mean he had had two hours and fifteen minutes of sleep. His whole body ached with exhaustion and the after-effects of what he had taken last night. The only thing he could remember from the party was accepting the drugs from Crowley and Alastair. Everything after that was a hazy blur.

  
He was ready to go back to sleep and just skip school today, but at that moment, John, his dad, came thundering in.

  
"Dean."

  
No response.

  
"Dean."

  
Still no response.

  
"For Christ's sake, Dean, get up and look at your father!"

  
Dean knew his Dad would just get progressively more agitated, so he sat up and glared at John.

  
"Can I help you?"

  
"I'm leaving on another job this morning. I'll be gone two weeks, max. I need you to look after Sam."

  
"Fine."

  
"Good. If I get wind of any funny business, I'll be coming straight back and you'll be packed off back to St Martin's. Clear?"

  
"Crystal."

  
John nodded, not meeting Dean's eye, and left to say goodbye to Sam.

  
There had been a time when Dean had treated his father with a whole lot more respect. He had even gone so far as hero-worshipping him. But those days were over. He still cooperated enough whenever it came to Sam, but apart from that, he avoided doing anything John told him. He had given up being Daddy's little soldier a long time ago.

  
Tired and disgruntled, Dean got dressed and padded into the kitchen of their apartment. Sam, his little brother, was already sitting at the table, eating breakfast and doing last-minute homework.

  
Before he realised it, he was already smiling. Sam was the only person who could do that - bring a smile onto his face without doing anything at all. Well, one other person used to be able to do that as well, but not anymore.

  
Sam looked up and saw him. He grinned, his mouth full of Lucky Charms.

  
"Hey, Sammy," Dean said fondly. "It's not like you to leave homework until the morning of it."

  
Sam smiled sheepishly.

  
"I know, it's just...I was kind of kept up all night texting."

  
"Really? Texting who?"

  
"Oh, just a girl..." Sam trailed off, a blush slowly creeping up his face. He rubbed the back of his neck.

  
Dean grinned slyly. He was intrigued.

  
"A girl? What's her name?"

  
"Uh...Jessica. But everyone calls her Jess." Sam's face was bright red now.

  
Dean threw his head back and roared a laugh. He ruffled Sam's hair -much to his brother's protest - and opened the fridge to chug some OJ down his throat.

"Do you need a lift to school or are you going with your new girlfriend?" he asked Sam, smirking.

  
"Shut up, Dean. She's not my girlfriend."

  
"But you like her."

  
"Well - yeah."

  
"So ask her out, then."

  
"It's not as simple as that."

  
"Sure it is. If you're worried whether she likes you or not; of course she does. Who could resist you? Take me. I'm a basket case, and yet I can still get girls. If I can do it, you definitely can."

  
After Sam had finished his cereal, Dean slipped on his leather jacket and they headed out to the Impala in the parking lot. Sam was in freshman year at Lawrence High, so it was no trouble for Dean to drive him to school.

  
Once they had pulled into the school, they both got out of the car and parted ways. Dean headed down to the cafeteria; he had a free period and planned to spend it stuffing his face with food. The teachers would be on his case for not studying like everybody else, but he was used to teachers being on his case.

  
While crossing the parking lot, he spotted Jo Harvelle, Pamela Barnes, Chuck Shurley and Benny Lafite huddled together, chattering animatedly. He felt a familiar twang of pain as he watched them laugh and talk with each other. Jo noticed him watching them and met his eyes. An unfathomable expression crossed her face and she looked away. Dean swallowed down the dark sadness that he felt all of a sudden. A year ago, he would have been in that huddle, laughing right along with them, without a care in the world.

  
Oh, how things had changed.

  
Dean pushed open the doors of the cafeteria and - stopped dead in his tracks. The place was empty apart from a group sitting at a table directly in front of him. Four brothers and one sister: the Novaks.

  
The first one to make eye contact was sitting hunched in his seat, wearing a tan trench coat and a ruffle of messy, black hair.  
Castiel Novak.

  
On the surface, Cas' expression didn't change, but Dean knew the telltale signs. A slight press of the lips. A minute twitch of the eye. The other boy was masking an emotion he wasn't willing to convey to those around him.

  
"Hello there, Mr Winchester."

  
The voice had come from Uriel, sitting directly to Castiel's right. Dean didn't know what on Earth the guy was doing here. Uriel had graduated Lawrence High last year.

  
"W-what are you doing here?"Dean asked, aware that he sounded like a fool. He curled and uncurled his fists to calm himself down. Seeing the bastard again didn't exactly muster up some pleasant feelings. Balthazar, a brother in the year below Dean, seemed to sense this, as he quietly suggested that Uriel step outside.

  
"Oh, no, uh, it's okay. I was just...I was just leaving. Yeah. Well, bye."

  
Just as he turned to leave, he couldn't help but look at Castiel again. Cas was looking down at the table as if it was the most fascinating thing he had ever seen. Dean balled his fists, kicked the doors open, and got out of there as fast as he could.  
The other two siblings that had been there had been Gabriel and Anna. He didn't care about those two as much. Gabriel was infuriating and annoying, but never hostile, and Anna was just shy. She was in the same year as Sam was, but Dean didn't think they were in the same circle of friends.

  
Balthazar was all right, Dean supposed, and he had never been outright rude or condescending.

  
But Uriel and Castiel. They were a different story.

  
Thinking about Cas was often too unbearable to handle. There were so many bruises, and so much unresolved anger and sadness and pain left there. So he focused on Uriel instead.

  
Dean had no problem thinking about how much he hated Uriel. The events of last year sometimes seemed like a lifetime ago, but on days like this it was as if they had happened yesterday.

  
In Dean's head, those memories were surrounded in a dark, black mist. Echoes of past confrontations and fights and nights spent drowned in tears bounced around his skull.

  
Clenching his teeth, he growled frustratedly and punched the wall.

  
It hurt. A lot.

  
Hissing and yanking his arm back, he cradled his fist and inspected it. The skin around the knuckles was cut and bruised. At a quick glance, he saw that he hadn't even made a dent in the wall. Typical.

  
He headed outside and immediately spotted Sam across the lot, walking beside a girl he presumed was Jess. He continued to study them as Sam cautiously wrapped his fingers around hers, his cheeks delicately pink. Dean had to look away, a hitch drawing in his chest. When Dean was Sam's age, he was already half-broken. Yet Sam was still whole and full of a resonating brightness. Dean was so relieved that his brother hadn't ended up like him, but he couldn't help but get frustrated with himself. Why did he always have to feel too much? Why couldn't he be like Sam? Or, better yet, like Cas. Cas, who had created an icy coating of frost around himself. Cas, who had changed so much from the little boy with adoring blue eyes that Dean had once known.

  
All too soon, the bell rang through the hallway and Dean headed to his first class.


	2. A Trip to the Hospital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 is here already! Don't forget to rate and comment! Tell me what you think :)

Finally, school was over. Dean was sat on the hood of his Impala, waiting for Sam to come out. For some reason, Lisa Braeden and Bela Talbot, the two queen bees, were watching him from the opposite side. He was tempted to go over and ask what their problem was, but then he realised that they had probably heard about his altercation with the Novaks. Once upon a time, his drama with that family had been a huge source of gossip, and people were probably getting excited, thinking it was going to start up again.

Not soon enough, Sam walked out of one of the buildings, chatting to the girl with curly blonde hair that he'd seen Sam walking with before. The one that he'd presumed was Jessica. The pair stopped in front of him. Dean noted that Jessica was standing a little behind Sam, eyeing Dean a little fearfully and, at the same time, a little curiously. Once again, his reputation had preceded him.

"Hey, Dean, I'm going to go over to Jess' for a little while. Her brother's gonna give us a ride there. Is that all right?" asked Sam.

"Sure. I just need to know where she lives to I can come pick you up."

"She lives just down the road from our apartment at number thirty four. I can come back by myself."

"Nah, little brother. I'll come pick you up at seven."

"Dean. I'm not a little kid anymore."

"I know. Humour me."

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, but, knowing that resistance was futile and Dean would come and get him no matter what, he nodded and walked away with Jessica. Dean knew that Sam wasn't a child, but, after what had happened to him, he was too paranoid. He had to know that Sam was okay. 

"Hey, kiddo!" he yelled. Sam paused and looked back.

"What?"

"Use a condom!"

Sam blushed, scowled, and stomped to Jess' brother's car, while she hurried after him.

Soon enough, seven o' clock rolled around and Dean left the apartment to go and pick up Sam. He ran down the flights of stairs and left the apartment building, proceeding to walk down the street.

He was quietly humming to himself, wondering what Jessica's house would look like, when somebody grabbed him by the back of his jacket and hauled him into an alleyway. He felt himself pushed up against the wall while someone spat in his face. He groaned and wiped his eyes, trying to get a good look at his attacker.

It was Alastair.

"You little piece of shit! You thought you could get away with what you did, didn't you?"

"Dude, what the hell are you on about?!" Dean yelled furiously, trying to struggle out of his grip.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about! You give it back NOW! Do you have any idea what kind of shit I'll be in if I don't pay back that dealer?"

"What are you talking about, you crazy son of a bitch?!" Dean growled.

"THE MONEY, YOU IDIOT! I saw you take it, you thieving lunatic! I NEED to repay that dealer by tomorrow, or he's gonna send people after me. And I know you have the money."

Then Dean remembered. He had been sitting in the bathroom, slowly coming down from his high when he had seen the wad of cash poking out of Alastair's coat pocket that was lying on the sink. He had taken the money, planning to buy Sam a new laptop since his old one had been stepped on by John in one of his drunken rages. But he hadn't thought anybody had seen him.

He couldn't remember where he had put the money.

"Where is it?!" Alastair demanded.

"I - I don't know. I don't-" he was cut off from his sentence by a hard punch to his abdomen. He grunted and bent over in pain.

"Then you're going to need a little persuading," crooned Alastair, his voice suddenly low and deadly.

Another blow came, this time directly between his legs. He cried out and took a swing at Alastair's face. Alastair staggered back from the blow and Dean took the opportunity to try and get away, but the older guy grabbed the back of his neck and threw him to the ground. Several kicks to his stomach later, Dean was fully hunched over, groaning, his vision blurry. Alastair hauled him back up again and hit him in the face again and again and again. The back of his head hit the wall and he slumped down, almost unconscious. He saw Alastair's leg go back, ready to kick again and closed his eyes, but the blow never came. The sound of grunts and punches caused him to open his eyes and he saw Alastair falling to the ground, and standing over him was a familiar figure in a trench coat.

Castiel Novak bent down, his blue eyes filling Dean's vision.

"Dean?! Dean, are you all right? Can you hear me?" He grabbed Dean's shoulders. Dean tried to say that yes, he was okay, but no sound would come out and he felt his eyes slowly closing.

"Dean! Dean, stay with me, stay awake!"

He felt a hand briefly touch the back of his head and then heard a gasp.

"Dean, your head's bleeding. I need to get you to the hospital..." He couldn't hear the rest of what Castiel was saying, as he was tipping forwards into an open oblivion. The last thing he registered before he fell into the darkness was Cas putting an arm around him and hauling him up.

Then the rest went black.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean was driving in the Impala with Sam. They didn't know where they were going, but they knew it was to a better place. They had left their dad behind and escaped to freedom. The windows were rolled down, AC/DC was blasting out of the speakers and the wind whipped their hair as they laughed giddily together.

"Dean."

Dean turned around to see Castiel sitting in the back of the car.

"What are you doing here? Get out of my car!"  
"But we're best friends, Dean. We've always been best friends."

"No. That's wrong. We're not best friends. Not anymore. I hate you."

"Wake up, Dean!" Cas' voice was frantic now.

"What?"

"Are you okay, Dean? Can you hear me yet? Wake up!"

Dean's eyes jolted open and he saw Cas leaning over him.

"Dean! Finally. I heard you stirring in your sleep so I tried to wake you up."

Dean was confused.

"What - where am I?" he asked, bewildered.

"You're in the hospital," Cas replied.

"Am I? What time is it?"

"Almost twelve am."

"WHAT!" Dean sat up abruptly, causing his head to pound.

"Be careful. You might be concussed-"

"I have to get home, like, right now. Sam will be freaking out."

"Dean-"

"My dad's not there! He'll be all alone and he'll think I've left him again!"

Cas looked torn, but seeing the panic on Dean's face caused him to relent.

"Okay, fine. I'll drive you home. I had to steal Uriel's car-"

"You STOLE Uriel's CAR?"

"I had to get you here somehow, didn't I?" Cas said defensively.

"Wow. Geez. I-"

"You what?"

"I just...I don't understand why you'd go to all these lengths to help me of all people. I mean, first you beat Alastair to a pulp, then you steal your douchebag brother's car to drive me to the hospital, then you stay at the hospital with me, and then you offer to drive me home. Why?"

Cas stared at him incredulously.

"So, what, you expected me to just leave you to the mercy of that psychopath? I've done some pretty low things - especially to you - but I wouldn't do that."

Dean couldn't do much but gape at him. It was like all the wheels and gears of his brain had come to a grinding halt. This information was incomprehensible.

"I thought you needed to get back to Sam," Cas reminded him.

"Right! Yeah. Just help me out of this dang bed. We've gotta leave before anyone sees us."

Cas helped him out of the bed - Dean tried not to wince TOO much - and they made a break for the parking lot, Dean hobbling along as best as he could.

Once they were inside Uriel's car, things finally started to get awkward.

Dean had no idea what to say. He supposed he should thank Castiel, or say ANYTHING, but he was pretty lost for words. It had only just occurred to him that he was in a car with Castiel Novak. That was something he had thought would never, ever happen again.

Cas cleared his throat.

"You have several stitches in the back of your head, so you must be careful with that. If they come loose, you really will have to come back to the hospital."

"Right."

Cas started the car. They drove in silence back to the apartment building. When Cas stopped the car, Dean turned towards him.

"I never asked, why were you in my street in the first place?"

Cas looked uncomfortable.

"I, um, I was actually coming to apologise to you."

"Apologise to me? Why?"

"I just realise that seeing Uriel today spooked you and most definitely reopened some wounds. I should never have let him come to the school, for risk of you seeing him, but he had to come in, to discuss something with the principal."

All Dean could do was look at him. He and Cas hadn't spoken for a year, and now all of a sudden the guy cared about him again? 

"Anyway, you should probably go and see Sam now," Cas said.

"Right. Right, of course. Well...bye."

"Bye."

Dean got out of the car before things could get even more awkward and uncomfortable. He watched Cas drive away while every part of his body throbbed with pain. He was sure his face was a complete mess of bruises and cuts.

More than being awkward or unsettling, seeing Cas again made Dean unfathomably sad. It reminded him of so many times when they used to spend whole days together, talking and laughing and just enjoying each other's company. He had done well these past months, not to think about any of that, but now he couldn't help it. He had been told in those dark days spent in St Martin's that he had to let those times go, that spending any more time with Castiel or thinking about him was sure to be unhealthy for him, was sure to just press on the slowly healing bruises. 

And it was true. Dean was already starting to feel that vulnerable, weary part of his mind falling prey to the sadness again, so he shook himself out of his reverie and focused on thinking about Sam. Thinking about Sam always helped him.

He rushed up the stairs and fumbled with his keys a bit before unlocking the door and throwing it open. 

Sam was sitting at the table, a cup of tea in his hands and a phone out on the table. He stared at Dean, his eyes full of hurt.

"Where the hell have you been-" he broke off when he saw the state Dean was in. "What - what happened to you?"

"I'm so, so sorry, Sammy."

"Dean, what the hell happened?"

"I...I was attacked and I had to go to the hospital. I'm so sorry I worried you."

"I've been trying to call you for hours."

"I think I lost my phone. It must have fallen out when I was attacked."

"Who attacked you?"

Dean hesitated, and then said, "I don't know."

Sam's eyes narrowed. He had noticed Dean's slight pause.

"Don't lie to me, Dean. Are you in trouble? Is someone after you?"

"No, Sam! I promise, it was a one-off. I'm gonna get some ice out of the refrigerator because my face is absolutely killing me."

"The Impala has been parked outside the whole time. Who drove you to the hospital and back?" Sam asked.

Dean stopped and sighed. He couldn't lie to Sam again.

"Castiel Novak."

"WHAT?!" Sam spluttered.

"Yeah, he, uh, he saw the fight and came to help me, I guess. He beat the other guy up and then took me to the hospital," Dean said.

"Wow. I - wow. I can't believe it. So, are you guys...friends again?"

"NO! Absolutely not! Never in a million years. No. No!"

"But, Dean, the guy rescued you from an attacker. He took you to the hospital."

"Just like any normal person would."

"Come off it. Face it, Dean, you and Cas aren't exactly normal, healthy people with a normal, healthy relationship."

"That may be true, but it's beside the point. He and I aren't ever going to be friends again. You remember what Doctor Naomi said."

"Screw Doctor Naomi."

"Sam! Cas is the reason I - he's the reason I did what I did. Well, one of the reasons, anyway."

Pain filled Sam's face, just like it did every time what Dean did was mentioned. Dean felt sick, and he had to turn away.  
Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"I'm going to get some sleep. You should too."


	3. The Worst Lunchtime Ever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's kinda boring, but it's really just a build up to chapter four, which is considerably longer. I'll post chapter four later today or perhaps tonight ;)

Bela Talbot was at Dean's locker.

He was standing a few feet away, hoping she would leave so he could go up and get his stuff. Unfortunately, she turned around and saw him.

"Dean! I need to talk to you," her stupid faux-posh British accent filled the corridor. She obviously wanted everybody to hear the conversation. The hall had already gone quiet as soon as Dean had walked in, no doubt because his face looked like he had crawled through a meat locker.

"What do you want, Bela?" Dean asked, sighing.

"Well, Lisa said that Brandon said that Olivia said that Hannah said that Colin said that he saw you get beaten up in an alleyway, and that Castiel Novak smashed the guy's head in and drove you to hospital."

"Don't be ridiculous, Bela. Why on Earth would he smash somebody's head in?"

"So the rest is true, then? You did get beaten up and Castiel Novak saved your backside?"

By then everybody in the hallway was staring at them. Dean rolled his eyes, irritation building up inside of him.

"I don't have time for this. I'm leaving."

He turned to go back the way he came, but a quiet voice caused him to freeze.

"Dean."

He turned back around and saw Castiel standing there, either unaware of all the eyes on them or not caring.

Why was this happening now? In front of everybody? Nobody really knew the ins and outs of what had gone on last year, but they knew the basic outline. And they knew that Dean and Cas were supposed to hate each other.

"Yes?" he asked.

"I just wanted to know if you're all right," Cas said calmly. "After what happened last night."

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Are you sure it was wise to come to school today? You could-"

"I said I'm FINE, all right?" Before Dean could let Cas say anything else, he shoved past Bela, got his stuff out of his locker, slammed it shut and made his way to his first class.

 

When lunchtime rolled around, Dean hurried to the cafeteria, keeping his head down so as to avoid too many stares. He pushed open the doors and lined up in the line for food.

"Um, hey, Dean."

Dean whipped around to see Jo Harvelle standing behind him. As soon as he saw her face, he was hit with an unexpected and sudden wave of guilt.

"Hello," he managed to croak out. Jo cleared her throat.

"I just wanted to know if you're okay. I heard about what happened."

"Oh, well, I'm fine."

"That's, um...that's good to know."

There was a period of awkward silence as the two looked anywhere but each other.

"Well, I've gotta go, now," Jo said.

"Okay. See you."

"Yeah."

Dean watched her hurry back to where Pamela, Chuck and Benny were sitting. They were all doing that I'm-staring-at-you-but-I'm-trying-to-pretend-I'm-not thing. Looking at them for too long caused the darkness to build up in his mind again, so he turned away and scanned the cafeteria instead. But that was no help either. He soon spotted Castiel sitting with his brothers and sister and talking with them animatedly. At least Uriel wasn't there today.

The whole lunch hall was trying to pretend everything was just the same as normal, but every conversation seemed so forced, and everybody was stealing as many glances as they could at Dean and Cas - but mostly Dean.

Dean tried his best to ignore them and soon saw Sam sitting at a table with Jessica and his friends Andy, Ava, Kevin and Ruby. Dean had never really liked Ruby. Every time he talked to her, she seemed pretty spiteful and gave off that whole manipulative vibe. Anyhow, he couldn't tell Sam which friends to choose. So he left it alone.

On days when Dean was feeling particularly lonely, he would often consider going to sit with Sam, but he knew his brother would hate it. He would feel like Dean was just checking up on him and being all overprotective. Which meant that every day, Dean sat alone. If he ignored the pain, then he could just about manage to be okay with it.

He saw Cas again, and he was staring at the table where Jo and the others were sitting. Dean often forgot that what had happened with him and Cas had meant that Cas had also been cut off from his friends. Cas had once told him that as soon as he turned eighteen, he would leave his family, if he could muster up the courage. He had said that he often felt suffocated by them, but also extremely guilty because of this. Most of Castiel's siblings had been adopted, including him, except for Gabriel, his brother Michael and his other brother Luke. Their dad had left before Cas had ever been adopted into the family, which meant he had never met the guy. The family was now looked after by their dad's brother, Zachariah.

Michael, the second oldest, was twenty-four now, and Luke had left the family when he was sixteen and Cas was four and, according to Cas, had done some terrible things - so terrible, in fact, that he was on the cops' most wanted list. 

In Dean's opinion, the rest of Cas' family weren't exactly saints either. They'd never committed the kind of heinous crimes that Luke had, but what they did was a little more subtle. Controlling the kids, cutting them off from the rest of the world. The whole family was secretive. Cas had voiced his suspicion more than once, often wondering whether Michael and his uncle Zachariah were hiding something.

Of course, ever since a few months ago, Dean KNEW that they were hiding something. And he knew what it was.

Once Dean had gotten his food, he headed over to his usual table at the back of the hall. He spent about a quarter of an hour picking half-heartedly at his food until he felt a presence appear beside him. He turned his head to see Castiel standing uncomfortably close.

"Jesus Christ, don't do that! Step back a bit, will you?!" he exclaimed.

"My apologies," Cas said regretfully. "I often forget about trivial things such as personal space."

"Yeah, you're telling me. I haven't forgotten-" Dean broke off because he was beginning to feel nostalgic about times with Cas and he just couldn't handle that yet.

"I wanted to say that I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't realise that you might not have wanted everybody to hear our conversation, and I respect that."

Dean was acutely aware of the fact that the whole lunchroom had gone quiet.

"Really? Because it's starting to happen again, pal."

Cas looked around, as if he genuinely hadn't noticed all the faces turned towards them.

"Would you like to go somewhere a little more private?" Cas suggested. Really? This conversation wasn't over yet? Dean sighed.

"All right, then. Lead the way."

Dean followed Castiel out of the cafeteria, dumping his food in the bin on the way out. He was extremely grateful to be out of the scrutiny of his classmates.

Once they reached an empty corridor, Cas stopped and turned to him.

"I trust that everything was all right once you got home? Was Sam too worried?"

"Uh...he was fine. Worried, yeah, but fine."

"That's good. You're holding up all right, then?"

Dean was sick of this.

"Look, I can't do this, okay? I can't. There's just too much...stuff. There's too much stuff here. What you did - it messed me up, okay? And I'm pretty sure I messed you up just by existing around you. I can't do this. I can't talk to you. It's too much."

"Dean-"

"Please, just...let it go."

With that, he pushed past Cas and ran out of the doors and the end of the hallway.

He didn't stop running until he was a good fifteen minutes away from the school. He ducked under the bridge, slipped his bag off and sunk to his knees.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't keep repressing this. What happened was eating him up.

He sat back, closed his eyes, and let himself remember.


	4. A Story of Two Lost Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter touches on some very, very dark subjects. Honestly, if you are easily upset, don't read this. The entire fanfiction takes on a very dark tone after this (not that it wasn't already dark) so just be warned.  
> On an additional note: I must admit I choked up while writing and reading this chapter. It was very emotional. Or maybe I'm just very emotional.  
> On another additional note: a song that goes extremely well with this fic is All I Want by Kodaline. If you want some music to listen to while you read, I recommend that song!  
> Anyway, on with the story!

Thirteen years ago, two four year old boys were starting kindergarten. They were both leading very separate lives. One of them was starting to realise how different he was, while the other had just lost his mother in a fire two weeks previous. The smaller one had scruffy black hair and dark, blue eyes and he watched while the other boy's father opened yet another bottle of beer. They had a baby in a pram, and the blue-eyed one watched with fascination as the green-eyed one chattered to the baby.

"Sammy, I'm gonna have to leave you for today. You'll look after Daddy, won't you?" he crooned.

The blue-eyed one looked up at his adoptive uncle.

"Will you wish me luck, Zachy?"

"No," his uncle said shortly. "And I told you before; don't call me Zachy."

"I'm sorry," the young boy said mournfully.

Soon enough, the boys were sent inside and had to say goodbye to their respective guardians.

For the rest of the day, the blue-eyed one watched the green-eyed one splash around in the paint and get told off for covering himself with yellow. He wished he could join in, but something was stopping him. 

All too soon, he was shoved from behind. He looked up to see a big tubby boy with chocolate around his mouth.

"Do you have any food?" the big boy demanded. The little one shook his head, terrified. The big one reached up and got ready to hit him, but he was intercepted by a torpedo that toppled him over.

It was the boy with the green eyes and the yellow paint.

"It's not nice to hit people," he said to the big tubby one. "Now go away!" 

The boy with chocolate around his mouth ran away, crying. The other boy reached down and helped the little boy up.

"Are you okay?" he asked him.

"Yes," said the blue-eyed one breathlessly.

"I'm Dean."

"I'm Castiel."

Dean with the green eyes looked at him appraisingly.

"I think I'm gonna call you Cas."

"Wow. I like that name."

"Do you want to play painting with me?" asked Dean.

"Absolutely!" exclaimed Cas.

 

The two boys, now seven, sat outside on Cas' porch, licking the remnants of ice cream off their fingers.

Dean turned to Cas.

"I think I've got a great idea," he announced.

"What is it?" asked Cas.

"Let's leave stink bombs in Uriel's bedroom!"

Cas looked at him doubtfully.

"I don't think that's a very good idea..."

"Come on! It'll be fun!"

From a very early age, Dean had known that he hated Uriel. He hated the way Uriel took pleasure in bullying all the siblings that were younger than him, but especially Cas. Cas had always been...different from other people. And Uriel had preyed on that.

Cas agreed to do it. Partly because he kind of hated Uriel too, and partly because he would to anything Dean asked of him.

 

When they were nine years old, that was the first time that Cas ever saw Dean's father lose control. He had been drinking all day, and five-year-old Sam had been pestering him to the point of insanity. Finally, he snapped and slapped Sam across the face. Quick as a bullet, Dean had raced to come between them.

"Please, Dad. Please don't. I know you don't mean it. I know it's not your fault."

John Winchester had sunk to the floor, sobbing, and Dean had comforted him. He always had to comfort John. Then, when he was finished, he turned to comfort Sam. Then he took Cas into his bedroom and Cas had tried to comfort him.

Nonetheless, he wasn't very good at it. He just kept awkwardly patting him on the back while Dean looked out of the window.

"It's all right, Cas. You don't have to comfort me. I'm all right."

Dean could tell that Cas didn't believe him, so he raced to distract him by telling him a tale of how he had glued a teacher's hand to his crotch.

Dean knew he didn't need comforting. Not really. It was his dad and his brother that needed comforting. Not him. 

He was just fine.

 

It wasn't until Dean's eleventh birthday when he started to realise that maybe he did need comforting after all.

He hadn't wanted a big party. He just wanted his dad, his brother and Cas to be there. They had arranged some snacks at the apartment and a movie afterwards on the little TV.

Cas had had to spend hours persuading his family to let him go. Michael, the eldest sibling, who was nineteen at the time, had locked him in his room. He thought that Cas' friendship with Dean was bad for him, and that Dean was a bad influence, always getting him into trouble. Cas had screamed that they didn't want him to have any friends and that they should never have adopted him. Gabriel, who was the same age as him, had helped him to sneak out in time to make it. Gabriel seemed to understand that Cas needed a life outside his family and that he cared about Dean a lot.

They were eating snacks at the table, when John got a phone call from his friend Bobby. It escalated into a heated discussion and ended with John telling Bobby never to contact him again. He proceeded to drink two bottles of beer, push all the food off the table and storm out. Sam ran, sobbing into his bedroom, and Dean was left still sitting at the table, his party hat on his head, staring into the distance. 

He was starting to understand why Sam always had tantrums at John. He had once overheard a conversation between two teachers, saying that John Winchester was a bad father and that Dean and Sam should be taken into care. Dean didn't want to be taken into care. But he didn't want to have to comfort his father throughout his whole life. 

Instead of trying to talk to him, Cas placed something into Dean's hand. It was a picture of them both that he had drawn, arms around each other, smiling like there was no tomorrow. Dean looked up at Cas and grinned.

"One day, we're going to run away. Me, you and Sam. The three of us against the world."

 

When Dean and Cas turned thirteen, they started to hit puberty. Body-wise, they were both growing at around the same pace, but mentally, Dean was changing much faster than Cas. He was starting to grow cocky and confident, to walk with a swagger in his step. He started to notice girls, and girls started to notice him. Every time he smiled, girls would swoon and giggle.

But he still had a special smile that was just for Cas. He'd never ignore Cas, never blow him off in favour of talking to girls. And Cas was grateful for that. He had always known that he depended on Dean much more than Dean depended on him. But he was okay with that. As long as Dean stayed with him, he was convinced that he would be all right.

He was also starting to notice how beautiful Dean was. He fully understood why girls loved him so much. 

Cas knew he stared at people a lot. It was just something he did. And he stared at Dean a lot. Not because he was creepy, but because Dean was always around him, so he was just something to look at. And Dean didn't mind. In fact, sometimes he stared right back.

 

When the two boys turned fourteen, they started to realise that their intense friendship was a little...unusual. It wasn't unusual to them, but it was to other people. Most people were used to it by now, but there were those few people that made extremely homophobic comments about them. Dean didn't care. He just laughed and told them to piss right off. But sometimes Cas got uncomfortable. He'd retreat back into his shell, and only Dean putting his arm around him and telling him some joke or other could draw him out of it.

At the same time that was going on, things at home were getting progressively worse for the both of them. Cas' family was getting more strict on rules every day, and Michael always tried to find something for Cas to do in order to stop him going out to see Dean. Uriel had started to join in on this as well, but his way of doing it was much more spiteful. He'd make snide jokes about how Cas was gay and Dean would never love him back. Cas tried his hardest to ignore it, but Uriel's comments got under his skin and upset him more than he let on.

Meanwhile, Dean was struggling to keep John and Sam away from each other. They'd always argue over the littlest things and then John would get drunk and shout a spew of abuse at Sam and Sam would tell him what a terrible father he was and then John would lash out. Dean tried every day to keep them away from each other, but he was exhausted. Sometimes he would secretly talk to Bobby on the phone and Bobby would tell him how before Mary, Dean and Sam's mother, had died, John was the friendliest, kindest person to walk the Earth. Ever since the accident in Sam's nursery, John had become a shell of the man that he used to be. 

Dean would often tell Cas how he tried to understand his father, but it was so hard, and John made it not even worth the effort. He still loved John, but he couldn't understand why he treated his sons like that. Did he blame Sam and Dean for Mary's death? That was probably the reason.

Dean and Cas knew, though, that they could always rely on each other.

Always.

 

In freshman year of high school, Dean and Cas met Jo, Pamela, Chuck and Benny. The six of them formed their own little friendship group, although Dean and Cas always remained closest.

Dean got his first girlfriend: Lisa Braeden. Everyone was surprised because she was a cheerleader and he was a good-for-nothing slacker who cut school a lot, but they dated anyway. Dean would talk about her a lot to Cas, and one time Cas asked Dean if he loved her. Dean replied,

"I don't know, Cas. I don't know how to tell what that kind of love is. I mean, I know I love Sammy, and I know I love you, but those are different kinds of love, ya know? So I really don't know, man."

Nonetheless, Dean and Lisa broke up soon after that. Dean remained adamant that it was a mutual breakup, but the whole school had heard Lisa screaming at him in the girls' toilets. When asked why they had broken up, Dean always said it was because of 'creative differences', whatever that meant.

 

Dean knew that Cas was different. He was soft-spoken - despite having a really freaking gravelly voice - and often used long, elegant words to convey what he was trying to say. But it was these little things that, to Dean, made him all the more special.  
Others didn't see it that way.

People would mutter and smirk every time Cas used a particularly complicated word, or when he didn't understand pop culture references. They'd start tripping him up in the halls and patting his back so hard that he fell over. They didn't like different, and, boy, was Cas different.

It made Dean mad. Really mad.

So, on a particularly cloudy day, when a particularly nasty guy called Dick (pretty accurate name) was pushing Cas particularly hard against a wall, Dean snapped. He shoved Dick off Cas and into the ground and sat on top of him, punching his face repeatedly into the concrete, eventually giving him a broken nose. It earned Dean a month-long suspension from school, but he reckoned it was worth it, because people left Cas alone after that.

 

When they reached sophomore year of high school, Dean started to recognise the darkness brewing inside him. It made an appearance every time John yelled at them, or every time Uriel tried to push him and Cas around. It slowly began to take over part of his brain, but he found that whenever he was alone with Cas or Sam, he could forget about it for a little while. But it was still always there. Snaking its dark tendrils around his brain.

Cas' family were getting more and more strict about him seeing Dean. This meant they were together a lot less, which meant the darkness in Dean's brain spread down to his heart. 

One day, when he was unable to take it, he opened the refrigerator door and stole one of his dad's beer bottles. He drank it all and fell asleep cradling the bottle. The next morning, John had found him there, with the empty bottle, and slapped him. After that, he kept all his alcohol under lock and key, but Dean didn't care. He could just steal some from the store down the road.

Another time, Cas snuck out of his house to see Dean and found him in his room, drunk and crying. Cas gently took the bottle from him, wiped away the tears, and held Dean while he sobbed. After that, Cas helped wean Dean off the alcohol, and Dean cooperated, desperate not to end up like his father. 

That was when Cas started to realise that Dean did depend on him too. They needed each other, in order to stay strong.

 

That summer was when it all started to change. Over the holidays, Cas grew more and more distant and Dean couldn't figure out why. He tried less and less to sneak out of the house to see Dean, and stopped answering his calls. The darkness came back inside Dean, this time almost swallowing him whole. By the end of the summer, he had given up trying to contact Cas, and just supposed he would try to talk to him once they got back to school.

But when junior year started, Cas would hardly look at Dean. They still ate together at lunch, still sat together in class, but things were so distant. Dean tried to get through to his friend, he even went over to Cas' house, certain that Michael was the reason for all of this. But Cas wouldn't talk to him.

By October, Jo had had enough, and recommended Dean to the school counsellor. The counsellor concluded that Dean was depressed and had been for a very long time, and referred him to a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist prescribed him on antidepressants to take every morning and night. Dean hated those pills. They made him feel...weird. They kept the darkness away, but they stopped him from being...Dean. By Christmas break, Dean had resolved to stop taking them, preferring to feel sad than nothing at all.

It was such a bad decision.

 

Now that Dean was himself again, he was thinking about Cas more and more. He was starting to hate the other boy for what he was doing to him. Didn't Dean at least deserve an explanation for the way he was being treated?

Dean, Sam and John spent Christmas Day fighting. John had forgotten to get them any presents and Sam asked him why he couldn't just be a normal father, for one day. John yelled at him that he was being an insolent brat and Dean, now coated in darkness, pushed over the Christmas tree that Sam had made, shocking both his dad and his brother. He then stormed out of the house, ignoring John's yelling for him to come back. He drove straight to Cas' house and banged on the door until Zachariah, their uncle, opened it.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes. I need to see Cas. Now."

Zachariah stared at him, a mocking smile beginning to twist his lips.

"Castiel, come here!"

Cas came down the stairs, stopping dead when he saw Dean in the doorway.

"Dean here wants to talk to you," Zachariah said tauntingly. Dean put his hands behind his back to prevent them from swinging up and punching him in the face.

Cas closed his eyes, seemingly bracing himself for something.

"Okay. I'll talk to him. Zachariah, please excuse me."

Zachariah moved out of the way and closed the door behind the two boys. Finally, they were alone.

Cas sighed.

"What do you want, Dean?"

"I want to know what the hell has gotten into you."

"Nothing has 'gotten into me'. What are you talking about?"

"Come on, Cas! You haven't looked me in the eye for six months! Has Michael been threatening you-"

"No, Michael has not been threatening me."

Cas closed his eyes again and then opened them, a hard glint appearing in the dark blue.

"I don't think we should be friends anymore, Dean."

Dean felt as if all the wind had been sucked out of him. No - worse than that. He felt like Cas had just reached inside him, ripped his heart out, splattered it on the ground and stomped all over it.

"What - what d-do you mean? Of course we should be friends! We're Cas and Dean! We're-"

"I think it's best if you leave now," Cas said calmly.

"No - Michael put you up to this, didn't he? He's scared you, hasn't he? Don't let him-"

"DEAN!" Cas' voice held a forceful tone that Dean had never heard before and he shrank back.

"Cas, please. Please don't do this do me. Not now. Not ever. You can't."

"I can."

"Cas! I need you!"

"No, you don't. You need serious help. The kind of help that I can't give you."

"Look me in the eye and tell me this means nothing to you."

Then Cas looked him square in the eye for the first time in months.

"This means nothing to me. Goodbye, Dean."

Dean was left standing there on the cold street, long after Cas had gone.

 

After Christmas Day, Dean completely lost it. He was moving progressively down a spiral that nobody could bring him up from.

Drink, party, fight, hook up, drink, party, fight, hook up.

That was all Dean's life was now. Just...meaningless...stuff. He did it in an attempt to numb the darkness.

But soon he would have to go back to school.

The bottle of antidepressants sat on his bedside table. On the nights he wasn't out getting trashed, he sat there, just staring at it. It was always there, a constant reminder.

An idea was slowly forming in Dean's head. A way to numb the darkness forever.

 

Two days before school started up again, Dean was silently sitting at the kitchen table. Sam and John had had another huge blowout, and both of them had gone to their respective rooms for the night. Dean hadn't. He was staring at a picture drawn by an eleven-year-old. A picture of two boys.

Five years ago, that picture had given him hope. Now it gave him hopelessness. Memories of a better time. A time that would never come back again.

 

The night before it was time to go back to school.

The bottle was finally off its place on the bedside table and in Dean's hand. He spent what seemed like hours just looking at it.

Slowly, he unscrewed the lid. Poured out the rest of the pills in the bottle. Already, he could feel the darkness seeping away, out of his heart, as he raised the pills to his mouth...

 

Screaming. Somebody was screaming. Was this what Heaven was like? No, that wasn't right. This was Hell. There was a lot of screaming in Hell. That was where Dean belonged.

A voice. His brother's voice. Sam couldn't be in Hell! Sam was sure to go to Heaven. Dean knew that much.

More voices. Shouting. Sirens. What...?

"What was it, Doc?"

"Overdose. Antidepressants."

"Poor kid."

Beep. Beep. Beep.  
Somebody cut that noise out!  
Beep. Beep. Beep.

A deep voice. His father. Another voice. His brother. His brother was sobbing. Why was he sobbing? There was no sadness here. Only peacefulness.

A white room. A white bed. A smiling nurse. A machine. This was all the days consisted of.

"I'm sorry, Dean. I'm so, so sorry."

Castiel? Castiel! No, no, that wasn't right. Castiel wasn't a part of him anymore. 

 

It took so long for Dean to get better. He kept having heart palpitations, seizures, throwing up, beginning to feel better and then throwing up again. Even after the harmful drugs had been flushed out of his system, it took weeks before he could even eat or undress on his own. The doctors told him there were going to be lasting effects on his health, such as muscle tremors, occasional double vision and potential psychological paranoia.

 

More days. Things began to grow clearer. Dean could sit up in bed now. He could eat by himself. The machines were still pumping morphine and a ton of other drugs into him, but he could have coherent thoughts now. Sam was always by his bed. Talking or reading or just simply sitting in silence. Once what had happened was explained to him, Dean had looked at Sam and the guilt could have torn him to pieces then and there. He lost count of the amount of times he apologised.

John came by sometimes. He rarely talked. Just stood there and listened to Sam and Dean quietly talking. Dean would sometimes catch his eye and be forced to look away. He would never be able to face the shame.

Soon enough, Dean couldn't stand it.

"When am I going home, Dad?"

John had looked at him, then. Really looked at him.

"You aren't going home, Dean."

Dean was confused.

"Where am I going, then?"

"St Martin's Psychiatric Hospital."

Dean gaped.

"I'm going to a mental institution?!"

"Yes."

Dean swallowed, cracking his dry throat.

"For how long?"

"You are down for six months, but if you need to stay for longer after that, then so be it."

Dean decided he would never forgive his father. Not ever. 

So that was that. Once Dean was discharged from one hospital, he was packed off to another, only this one was much scarier.  
Dean behaved like a good little psycho. He went to group therapy, talked to his counsellor, convinced them all that he was feeling so much better. He filled them with crap like the fact that his experience with death had opened his eyes to the world.  
He didn't make any friends at the hospital. Dean was finished with friends. He knew now that they all either leave you or shit all over your messed up life. In some cases, such as his, both. 

So Dean did his six months. Then he was sent off home. He wasn't prescribed any more pills. One, because his last experience with pills hadn't been the most pleasant or rewarding, and two, they all thought he was 'cured'. Funny, the idea that somebody can be 'cured' of a mental illness. Like it's breast cancer or something.

Not that Dean had breasts.

He still had to see a therapist every week, though. His name was Doctor Garth and he used a sock puppet named Mr Fizzles to talk to Dean. Despite himself, Dean liked the guy. A sock puppet can seem really patronising, but when it came to Doctor Garth, it was just endearing.

Then Doctor Garth left for another job, and his parting words to Dean were to 'keep smiling'. He was replaced by Doctor Naomi and Dean HATED her. Instead of sock puppets, she communicated with self-satisfied smiles, and always repeated the phrase 'I fixed you, Dean'.

 

When Dean finally got home, it was already the summer holidays. Sam threw him a welcome home party, with food all made by him. It wasn't much of a welcome home party. Only Sam and Dean were there. John wasn't there. But Dean didn't care about John anymore. The only person in the world that he cared about now was Sammy.

The two of them spent the holiday cruising around in the Impala. Dean had missed his car severely. They managed to avoid everybody from Dean's school, by some miracle. Of course, they all knew by now where he had been. Word had gotten around town about drunken John Winchester's manic depressive son ending up in psychiatric care. People at Sam's school had pestered him about it, but he'd told them all to piss off.

The first day back at school had, as imagined, been a nightmare. So many stares and so many whispers followed Dean everywhere. Then he spotted Cas and began visibly shaking. But that could have been the effects of his overdose.

Cas hadn't looked at him once. Not once. He used to look at him all the time.

Sam and John still occasionally fought, but John was away more and more, so it happened less and less.

Dean soon found that adrenaline could keep the darkness away. It was why he had fallen in with Crowley and his lot. They were all high school dropouts who were always looking for a next fix. So he joined them in order to forget.

Things had moved into a steady pattern. Every day, Dean smiled and laughed and forgot. But forgetting was growing increasingly harder.


	5. Party Time

Two weeks after the events in the alleyway, Cas was sitting in his bedroom. He rarely left his bedroom anymore. He had finished all his coursework and was now left with nothing to do. Sitting at his desk, he rubbed his forehead and, as he often did, went back to thinking about Dean.

Cas had only wanted to apologise because he knew how much seeing Uriel that day would have hurt Dean. Uriel had done something unspeakable, once upon a time. Cas still remembered the day when Uriel had come home laughing...

 

He had been reading a book in the living room while constantly trying to ignore Gabriel's chattering. Uriel hadn't been home for a while and he was starting to get worried, when the door opened and he trudged in.

Humming to himself, Uriel had strolled into the room, a strange smile on his face.

"Where have you been?" Gabriel had demanded.

"If you don't mind, Gabriel, I would like to talk to Castiel alone."

After much moaning and huffing, Gabriel had left the room, leaving Cas and Uriel alone.

"Where have you been, Uriel?" Cas' voice had been quiet.

"If you must know, I was at St Martin's."

"St Martin's...no, Uriel. No. Tell me you didn't go to see him."

"I did."

"What did you do to him?" Cas' voice had been hoarse by this point.

"Oh, nothing really. I just told him a little story about his mother."

"What? What did you tell him? Why couldn't you just leave him alone?!"

"Do lighten up, Castiel. You've been awfully aggressive these past few weeks. Let's just say I made sure he won't ever be bothering you again, if he knows what's good for him."

 

Cas was broken out of his daydreams by Gabriel bursting into the room. He jumped on Cas' bed, causing the springs to bounce.

"Zachariah's still away, and Michael is taking Uriel to Switzerland on a business trip. Me and you will be the oldest ones here," he announced, flopping into a lying down position.

"And your point is...?"

"My point is, I'm throwing a party! A big one!"

"Oh, no, please don't, Gabriel. I have to study, and besides, you know they'll get wind of it somehow."

"So? Who cares? I'm sick of them, always controlling us and bitching about Luke. Why can't this family ever get along?"

"It's not as simple as that. You know it isn't."

"Of course it is, Cassie. This party's going ahead whether you like it or not. I've already sent a mass message out to everybody over the age of fifteen and under the age of twenty five in the area. That's a lot of people, and they're all super excited, because this is one of the biggest houses in town. This party will be massive. It'll go down in history, mate. Mark my words." Gabriel then stood up and started jumping on the bed. Cas eyed him.

"Are you high?" he asked suspiciously. Gabriel stopped and laughed, pulling a candy bar out of his pocket.

"High on life, brother. High on life."

 

"Are you going to the party tonight?"

Dean and Crowley were sitting on a park bench, sharing a bottle of spirits.

"What party?" Dean asked.

"You know, the one that kid from your school is throwing. Gabriel Novak. Apparently he claims it'll be the party of the year."

Dean frowned, puzzled.

"No, that's not right. I know that family. Or I used to. They'd never let Gabriel throw a party."

Crowley shrugged.

"Well, apparently they are now. Come on. It'll be wicked. I haven't been to a high school party in months. We can go and shake it up a little."

"Absolutely not. I swore I'd never set foot in that house again."

Crowley squinted at him.

"What, you got some history with them or something?"

"You could say that. Hey, you know what's happened since you last saw me?"

"No."  
"Well, your buddy Alastair happened. Guy's a freaking psycho."

"He's not the one that's been in a mental hospital."

"I really regret telling you about that. You keep using it against me."

"And I will continue to. We've all got issues, Deanie-boy. And you're coming to that party with me. It'll be good for you. You can even start a fight if you want. Or something."

 

Great. The first few people had started to arrive, signalling the start of Gabriel's 'legendary' party. Cas knew that from this point onwards, he wouldn't get any more homework done.

A loud techno beat started up, and Cas could hear Gabriel hollering at people to take paper cups full of vodka. In Cas' opinion, it was a little early to start getting the vodka out. 

He knew he'd have to leave his room at some point, or otherwise Gabriel would force him out. There was no avoiding this party, but there was avoiding his room getting trashed. When he left, he was going to lock it behind him, making sure nobody could get in.

A part of Cas wondered if Dean would be there, but he knew that was ridiculous. Dean would sooner spit on his own grave than come back to this house. Cas knew that much.

"Cas, get your scruffy little ass down here!" he heard Gabriel yell. Heaving a sigh, he securely locked his bedroom door and made his way down to the ground floor. People were already sitting and making out on the stairs. Disgusting.

The music was far louder down here. Gabriel was at his side in no time, yelling in his ear.

"There's already, like, almost sixty people here! This is gonna be so amazing!" Then he left to go talk to some other friends. Cas spotted Anna sitting on one of the couches, talking to a guy he didn't know. He had no doubt that  
Balthazar was somewhere here, too, but he couldn't find him.

He looked towards the door and saw someone he thought he wouldn't ever see in this house again.

Sam Winchester had just walked through the open door, followed by his usual group of friends. He met eyes with Cas and gave him a slight smile, but Cas could tell it was only a polite one. Sam knew what Cas had done to Dean.

The party was rapidly getting bigger and louder as more people poured in. The amount of bodies around him caused him to start feeling as if he was drowning. He couldn't breath and he had to get out of there. Fast. 

He shoved past the people in the doorway and gulped in the fresh air in the garden, looking up at the slowly darkening sky.  
He made his way round the house and into the large lawn behind it. A little swing set stood there, lonely and forgotten from years ago. Cas went to sit on it and gently rocked back and forth. What was he doing to himself?

 

For the first time in almost a year, Dean was facing the gates of the Novak house. Crowley was standing next to him, hand in his pocket, tapping his foot.

"Are we going to go inside or are you going to spend all night memorising the exact colour and shade of those iron gates?" he asked finally. Dean shook himself.

"Sorry."

"No problem. I just kind of want to get inside and out of the freezing cold."

They made their way up the path. The mixture of music, yelling, screaming and laughing was practically pulsing and bulging from inside the walls.

The door was already open, and, with a deep breath, Dean stepped over the threshold.

He was immediately consumed by hoards of people, all dancing and shouting over the beat of the music. Dean looked around. Great. He'd already lost Crowley.

After much sliding and awkwardly pushing through people, Dean made it to the vast kitchen, where there were less people. He figured Castiel would be up in his room or something, so he didn't have to worry about bumping into him.

"You look traumatised," a voice behind him said. He spun around to find a girl roughly his age with shoulder-length red hair and a cheeky smile.

"That obvious?" he asked. She laughed.

"I don't even know what I'm doing at this party."

"You're telling me."

"I'm Charlie, by the way."

"I'm Dean."

He watched her eyes widen.

"Dean Winchester? I should have known, considering everybody who doesn't live under a rock knows who you are. No offence or anything."

"Really?" Dean asked, surprised.

"Seriously? Everybody knows. Everybody knows you. Or has at least heard of you."

"That's...actually, I'm not even surprised. My trash hole life is probably like a soap opera or something to these people."

"In my opinion, I think they should focus on their own lives instead of a guy that they don't even know. To be honest, I don't even like most of these people. I only came because by girlfriend dumped me and I wanted to get wasted. Bad idea. I'd rather be at home playing D and D."

"D and D?"

"Dungeons and Dragons."

"Oh."

At that point, somebody tapped Charlie on the shoulder and she moved away to talk to them, waving a goodbye to Dean.  
He pulled uncomfortably on the collar of his jacket. It was really hot in here. Not to mention loud. He had to get some cool air on his face.

Stumbling towards the door at the back of the room, he opened it and gratefully stepped outside. It was almost pitch black now. The stars were shrouded by clouds, so the only light was the moon, and it illuminated everything at the bottom of the garden in a silver hue. Rubbing his face, Dean walked down to the other end, feeling grass and dead leaves crunch beneath his feet.

"Hello, Dean."

He whipped around, squinting at the figure sitting on the swing set. He didn't know how he'd managed to walk right past Cas without even noticing him, but, nonetheless, he had.

"I didn't expect to see you at this party," continued Castiel.

"Ditto," Dean said shortly.

"But I live here. Of course I would be at this party."

"Yeah, but I figured you'd be in your room or something."

"Well, here I am."

Whatever. Dean was done with this conversation. He started to walk back up the grass.

"Dean, wait."

"What? What do you want?" His voice was growing more frustrated by the minute.

"I-" Cas couldn't finish whatever he was saying, because just then Gabriel came out the door and bounded down the lawn.

"Cassie! Deano! What're you two chuckleheads doing out here? Come and join the fun!"

Gabriel had a drink in his hand and was sloshing it everywhere as he made wild hand gestures. Dean knew from experience that Gabe was very excitable when he was drunk. Actually, he was just excitable all the time.

Dean noticed Cas close his eyes and sigh deeply.

"Yes, Gabriel. I'm coming now." He pushed himself off the swing, cast one last look at Dean and headed up to the house. Dean was left alone with Gabriel, who had reached him by this point and thrown an arm around him.

"God, you stink of tequila," Dean said, retching and trying not to puke.

"It's all about the fun, Dean, m'boy. You should understand. Sometimes you even drink more than...oh, God." Gabriel's slurred speech was cut off as he bent over and threw up all over the ground. And Dean's shoes.

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST, GABRIEL!" he yelled, jumping away. "You just ruined my goddamned shoes!"

"If it makes you feel any better, they weren't very nice shoes to begin with," Gabriel replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He straightened and looked Dean up and down. "Now, where's that charming little Dean smile that we all know and love? Haven't seen it since you got back from mental hospital."

Dean flinched. Apart from Crowley, most people didn't talk so bluntly about his trip to mind rehab. Then again, Gabriel was certainly not 'most people'.

He shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. 

"Come on. I want to get back inside."

"No, you don't," Gabriel said nonchalantly, but followed him back to the house anyway. "Oh, and, by the way, can you please stop torturing my brother?"

Was this guy serious?

 

For the next hour, Dean tried to find Crowley, but to no avail. Most likely, the idiot was up in one of the bedrooms getting his naughty on with some girl. Or guy. Crowley wasn't fussy.

He was just picking up another cup of what was either sparkling water or vodka - in his alcohol-hazed mind, he wasn't really sure - when he heard a large commotion coming from the living room. He looked through the door, and discovered that a large crowd had gathered in the hallway. It took a while, but he managed to shove through all the sweaty bodies until he reached the edge of the disturbance. In the middle of a circle, Gordon Walker - a guy from school - and Gabriel were glaring at each other, while Castiel was hovering, anxious and flustered, behind them.

"What did you call my brother, you piece of trash?" Gabriel snarled, although the menace in it was somehow dimmed by the fact that he was so drunk you could hardly hear what he was saying.

Gordon smirked.

"I said he was a freaking faggot gay-boy. What are you going to do about it?"

"I'll kill you, that's what I'll do!" Gabriel roared.

"Oh, come on," Gordon scoffed. "Everyone knows he was obsessed with that guy who went mental."

With a shock, Dean realised it was Cas that Gordon had called a faggot, and it was Dean that he had just referred to.

"They used to be so gay together until they broke up and the poor fucker tried to kill himself. Bit of an overreaction, if you ask me," Gordon taunted.

With heavy eyes, Dean looked up and found that Castiel was already staring at him, so much panic and guilt in his eyes. Other people were staring at him too, and they started to move backwards and away from him, until he was part of the little inner circle too. Gordon noticed him and laughed out loud.

"Here he comes! You gonna defend your boyfriend? Is poor psycho Winchester going to beat me up?"

Dean curled his fists. Despite all his hatred, somebody treating Castiel like shit still got to him, no matter what. But he wasn't about to show that.

"Go to hell, Gordon," he said viciously.

"But you've already been there, Winchester. Tell me, what's it like in the madhouse? Did they have to sedate you? Did you see little ghosties everywhere? What kind of drugs did they put you on?"

"Shut your mouth right now, or I swear to God-"

"You'll do what? Come off it, Winchester. Ever since you got back from the psych ward, you've been a fragile, breakable little flower.. You're in no position to fight. I'm almost inclined to take mercy on you, if you weren't such a gay, mental loser."

"That's ENOUGH." It wasn't Dean's voice this time. It was Castiel's. And he was shaking with rage. "Get out, Gordon, before I-"

"Before you become so gay that you explode?"

That was it. Dean could see something snap in Cas' eyes, and before he could register what had happened, Gordon's nose was already streaming with blood and Balthazar had appeared and pulled Castiel backwards.

Cas was looking down at his bloody fist, as if he was surprised to see it there. Balthazar was pushing Cas and Gabriel out of the room while some people attended to Gordon. 

Dean met bright blue eyes as they passed. Cas looked as though he wanted to say something, but was pushed out of the room before he could.

Left feeling emptier than ever, Dean yanked people out of the way and made a break for the exit, gasping at lungfuls of air.  
This was one of the worst decisions he had ever made. And he made a lot of bad decisions.


	6. Therapy

Dean and Dr Naomi were having a staring contest.

Not literally. They weren't actually having a staring contest, but they were both glaring at each other, both daring the other to break the tenuous silence. Dean had kicked open the door at five o' clock on Sunday afternoon - half an hour late - and plopped down on the couch opposite her desk. She was now surveying him, chin resting on her locked hands, while he glowered under her gaze.

Finally, she sighed and spoke up.

"I'm assuming you haven't had a very good week, considering you have a face on you like a bag of seething parasites."

Dean shrugged. Dr Naomi sighed again.

"Anything in particular you'd like to get off your chest?" she pressed.

"Nope," was Dean's monosyllabic reply.

"What about school. How's Sam doing?"

"Fine."

"And you? How are you doing, Dean?"

"Fine."

Dr Naomi scoffed. "I don't believe you for a second."

"Maybe because of your generally pessimistic personality?"

Her eyes widened. "Me, pessimistic? Have you taken a look at yourself these days, boy?"

"I'm ironically pessimistic," he explained.

"Sure you are."

"Can I go now?"

Dr Naomi's answer was to abruptly change the subject. "What about Castiel? Have you been doing as I instructed?"

"What, you mean ignoring him? I've been ignoring him just fine on my own without your help, lady," Dean lied.

"Why don't I believe you about that, either?"

"Again, because you are supremely pessimistic."

They were going around in circles, as usual.

"You do understand that if you spend a lot of time thinking about Castiel and how much he hurt you, it will significantly decrease your chances of getting better at all?" Dr Naomi said, just like she had a thousand times before.

Dean stood up. "I'm sick of this. I'm leaving."

She didn't stop him as he made his way to the door - only said,

"Make sure you're on time next week, Dean."

 

Monday was horrendous. Once a-fucking-gain, Dean was caught smack-bang in the middle of a huge gossip story. He thought about just skipping, but Sam had to get to school somehow, and Dean was the only person he knew with a car besides John.

Sam had witnessed the whole fiasco at Gabriel's party. He kept shooting Dean worried looks, but knew better than to bring it up. Dean was grateful for that.

"How're things at school?" he asked on the way.

"Uh, yeah, they're good. Great." Sam had turned a bright shade of pink again and scratched his hair. Dean felt a cheeky smile stretch his face.

"Oh, really? Things are great? That wouldn't have anything to do with a particular blonde-haired girl who's name rhymes with 'press'?"

By now, Sam had practically gone magenta.

"Shut up, Dean. Don't make a big fuss about it. She's just a...good friend."

"Heh heh."

"Seriously, I am not afraid to smack you!" But Sam was laughing, so the threat fell loose.

"I'm happy for you, buddy. Honestly, I am,' Dean said, grinning. Sam looked down, embarrassed.

"Yeah, whatever," he mumbled, which made Dean laugh even more.

 

His good mood was short-lived, though, since as soon as he pulled up in the school parking lot, he felt the weight of everyone's eyes on the car. Steeling himself, he got out and refused to look at any of them.

"See ya, Sammy," he said.

"Bye, Dean."

Dean made his way up the parking lot, seeing Lisa Braeden and Bela Talbot not-so-subtly staring at him while in deep conversation. Jo, Pamela, Chuck and Benny were over by Benny's car. At least they were being a little more discreet about it.

He almost ground to a halt when he saw the four Novak kids about ten feet away from him. Of course, everybody was openly staring at them, as well. Gabriel was hunched down in his coat, obviously still hung over from two nights ago. Balthazar and Anna were bravely ignoring the stares, while Castiel was making himself as small as he possibly could, hands shoved deep in his trench coat pockets. He didn't look up once, and didn't notice Dean, which left Dean free to look at him properly. There were dark purple circles around his eyes, and his eyebrows were creased together. He wasn't even bothering to mask his emotions like he usually did. The pain was so clear on his face that Dean had to look away.

Dean could deal with a distant Cas. He could deal with a hateful Cas. He was used to those by now.

But what he was unsettled by, was a hurt Cas.

Sure, he'd seen Cas hurting a thousand times. However, that was different. Back then, he'd been able to comfort him and cheer him up with jokes and charm.

But now...he'd built up a wall. Taught himself to think of Castiel as an alien being unable of feeling any emotion. But Gordon's words had clearly gotten under his skin, and that made Dean feel strange. He wanted to punch Cas. He wanted to put an arm around Cas and tell him it was okay. He wanted to shake Cas. He wanted to beat Gordon Walker to a mashed-up pulp. All at the same time.

Right then, Dean realised his fatal mistake. He'd allowed himself to feel any emotion other than indifference for Castiel Novak. And it was making the darkness stretch it's aching fingers again.

Dean decided to skip school.

 

The following Tuesday found him hiding out in the library at lunchtime.

Unbelievable, isn't it? Dean Winchester. In a library. One of life's small miracles.

He just really couldn't bear the pregnant, weighted tension in the cafeteria, and he hadn't wanted to miss school AGAIN, so he figured the only quiet place it was safe to go was the library. Sure, there were several other people there, but they all had their noses stuck in books.

Dean, meanwhile, was vandalising one. He'd gone over to the Shakespeare section and decided to depict some crude drawings of Romeo and Juliet doing unspeakable things. It was his own little revenge for being made to play Juliet's mother in his ninth grade Drama class' production.

He was just getting into his flow of drawing some doggy-style when his ears picked up an all-too-familiar goddamned gravelly voice from a few rows away.

"I'm telling you, Balthazar, it's FINE. What Gordon said didn't mean anything, so can we please, for the love of mankind, stop talking about it now?"

"Well...okay, Cassie. I'll let it drop. For now."

"For. Ever."

A sigh.

"Look, I'm just worried about you, that's all. You should be freaking rejoicing! The fascists have gone! We've got the house all to ourselves!"

"I really wish you wouldn't talk about Zachariah, Michael and Uriel like that, Balthazar."

"Come off it. You know its freaking tr - oh. Hi, Dean."

Cursing everything in existence, he looked up to find Balthazar and Castiel standing at the end of the row, having just turned the corner. Castiel's face was (thankfully) neutral and devoid of any hint of emotion. Balthazar's smile was bright, but slightly forced.

"What are you doing?" Balthazar asked.

"Reading," Dean replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah, right. We can see what you're drawing, Dean," said Balthazar, on the verge of laughter.

"Oh. I, uh...I got bored." He glanced at Cas again, out of sheer instinct.

Balthazar nodded and turned to go, but Cas shot out a hand to stop him.

"Dean."

Dean kept his eyes averted.

"What?" he asked. Castiel cleared his throat.

"I wanted to apologise for what happened at the party. Things got extremely out of hand, and Gordon said some very hurtful things."

"Yeah, well you're not responsible for what comes out of Gordon Walker's mouth," Dean replied curtly. Why was Cas always apologising?

Cas audibly swallowed.

"Right. Well, that's all I wanted to say."

He turned to go, but Dean's mind was fuzzy.

"How's your hand?" he blurted. Cas looked back at him, mildly confused.

"I...what?"

Dean cleared his throat.

"Your, uh, your hand. You've beaten people up twice now. It, um, must be pretty sore."

Cas looked at his left hand and inspected it.

"I suppose it is quite sore, yes. Nothing an ice pack can't handle." Cas looked back up and Dean detected SOME kind of emotion behind his dark eyes, but he couldn't place it.

The two brothers left Dean to his thoughts after that.

 

"Hey, Dean!"

Lisa Braeden was leaning against his locker, and had just noticed him come up beside her.

"Uh, hi, Lisa," he replied, confused.

She unconsciously fiddled with her hair.

"Um, well, Bela wanted to know if you'd like to sit with us at lunch today." She was staring at the floor, but her voice held a hopeful tone.

Dean wondered if he'd heard correctly. Bela and Lisa were offering for him to sit with them? Had he been transported to some kind of parallel universe?

He became aware that he still hadn't answered, because Lisa was stepping away from him.

"Forget it. Don't worry. It was stupid. Sorry to bother you-"

"Lisa."

She looked back up at him. He remembered being a freshman and thinking she was some kind of angel sent from Heaven for him. Back then, he would have jumped at the first chance to eat lunch with her.

"I...thank you for the offer. But I can't. Sorry. Not - not today." How could Dean explain to her that it had nothing to do with her, and that he just wasn't ready for any kind of friendship?

Lisa closed her eyes and nodded, seemingly desperate to escape.

"Right. Well, bye, Dean."

"Bye. Oh, and Lisa? Really, thank you. I mean it."

She smiled at him sadly, then disappeared into the crowd. He was about to turn to his locker when he noticed Chuck watching him.

"Oh. Hey, man," he said to him. Chuck was the editor and chief journalist of the school magazine, and always had the inside scoop on everything, sometimes even before it happened. He had never written anything about Dean, though. Even after they stopped being friends.

"Hi," Chuck replied nervously. He was always nervous.

"Did you want something?" Dean asked, when it was clear Chuck wasn't going to elaborate.

"Nothing. I just...never mind. Forget about it." Chuck slowly backed away, but Dean stepped forward.

"What is it? Come on, you can tell me."

Chuck fixed his glasses and seemed to steel himself for a storm.

"It's just - can you stop being distant for a second and listen to my question without biting my head off, which is what I'm really afraid you're gonna do when you hear it?'

Dean frowned. "What is it?" he repeated.

"Just, look, I get that you've been through a really rough time. But you don't have to keep pushing people away. Me and Pam and Benny and Jo and Cas were your friends. We still are, if you want us. I never tried to pry into what happened to you - I would have been the world's biggest jerk if I did - so I have no idea what made you...do what you did. But I do know that having people you can trust really does help. You turned down Lisa's invitation. Why? My point is, you've isolated yourself from so many people who are willing to care about you if you let them. Anyway. That's all I have to say. Please don't punch me." He held his hands out, protecting his face, and hunched into the opposite wall.

"Chuck. I'm not going to punch you," Dean said softly.

Chuck straightened and exhaled in a blow.

"Phew. I was really worried you would for a second there."

By now, the hall had almost cleared of people, and the two of them were almost alone.

"I'm sorry, Chuck," Dean said, his voice catching in spite of himself.

"Hey. I didn't mean to make you sad! I wanted to make you feel the opposite!" Chuck was twisting his hands together anxiously.

"Chuck, what would you do if someone hurt you - like REALLY hurt you - and you hated them with every part of your being, but you still cared about them, despite what they'd done? What would you do?"

Chuck leaned against the wall.

"It depends if I really needed this person. If they were a big part of my life that I couldn't erase."

"What if they were? What if you needed them even though they hurt you? If there was a chance, no matter how small, that this person could still care about you?"

"If I needed this person so much, and cared about them deeply, then it wouldn't really be unhealthy, would it? Isn't the best way for getting better always to fix bridges with the people you love the most?"

"But what would you do?"

"I think I would at least try to let this person back into my heart. Just to see if it would help it mend."

 

School was over and Dean was waiting by the Impala for Sam, as per usual. Sam was really taking his time today - no doubt flirting with Jess - and Dean was growing impatient. He tapped one foot on the ground anxiously, when footsteps came up behind him.

"Hello, Dean." Cas was looking up at Dean earnestly, his dark hair sticking up in tufts.

Dean cleared his throat. "Hi."

Cas averted his gaze and instead looked down at the Impala. A strange expression crossed his face, as if he was remembering all the times he'd ridden in it.

"I have to tell you something-" Cas was interrupted by Sam bounding up behind them.

"Sorry I took so long! Oh, hi, Cas." Sam looked between the two boys, his forehead creased, trying to work out what was going on.

"Hello, Sam." Cas looked flustered and took a shaky step backward. "I'm sorry. I have to go."

"Hey! Wait! What did you want to tell me?" Dean yelled after him, but he had already raced across the parking lot and retreated into Gabriel's car. Dean watched as Gabriel - who was sitting on top of his car, eating a cookie - frowned and looked in the direction Cas had come, waving when he saw Dean and Sam. Sam waved back, but Dean just rubbed his eyes and got into his car. His head was pounding.


	7. Helping You Heal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I know the end of this chapter makes it seem like it's the end of the story, but I promise it isn't! There's a hefty amount of plot and chapters left to go :)

John was back. This meant several things. 1) The tension at home was back. 2) Sam retreated to his room every day in order to escape his father. 3) Dean left the house more; also in order to escape his father.

Now that Dean was leaving the house more, he inevitably ran into people from school. Usually they just avoided him, which was absolutely fine. Mostly, he just drove around and found secluded spots by himself. He hadn't spoken to Crowley since the disastrous night of the party. In fact, he actually had _no idea_  whether Crowley was still in town or whether he had just upped and left. It wouldn't be surprising if he had. Crowley wasn't one to wait around for people.

On Friday, when the lunch room had gotten particularly hot, Dean had decided to escape and sat on the bleachers of the baseball field. The bright sun beat down on his face, and he leaned back and closed his eyes while heat moisturised the air.

All too soon, Dean became aware of a presence hovering over him, and when he jerked his eyes open, he let out a yelp. Castiel was leaning over him.

"Jesus! Give a guy some warning, will you?"

"My apologies," Cas said mournfully. Before Dean could say anything, he sat down beside him and surveyed the school grounds below them. "I never got a chance to tell you what I wanted to on Monday."

"Right," Dean said warily. He eyed the other boy, wondering if he should bolt.

Cas took a deep breath.

"This is something I cannot even begin to explain..." he trailed off and tried again. "Look, I know this will be painful for you, but can you try to think back to that night last Christmas?"

Dean's eyes widened. Was he for real? Was he really asking Dean to dig up what was possibly his most painful memory?

"You remember what was said?" Cas pressed.

Dean jumped up.

"I don't know what is going on here, but if you're trying to torture me, it's working. Why can't you leave me alone-"

"Dean, please sit down. Please. I'm trying to tell you something."

Against every instinct in his body, Dean lowered back down into his seat. He was unable to stop himself. Even after everything, he was unable to stay away from Cas.

"These past few weeks have made me realise something," he continued. "It wasn't clear before what I should do, but it is now. I must tell you the truth. You see, that summer, Zachariah and Michael started to grow worried that they were losing me. They often talked about introducing me and Gabriel to the 'business' once we turned eighteen. And they were terrified that I would leave them in favour of you. So they decided to do something about it."

"I don't understand."

"Zachariah has tried threatening me before, to no avail. He knows that I've learned that he won't follow through with that. So he tried a different tactic. He started making threats on YOUR life. I don't know what kind of things Zachariah has done in the past, but can have a good estimate that they are most definitely pretty bad. That was when I knew I had to distance myself. I couldn't let him or Michael near you. Then, when you came on Christmas Day, I knew I had to make my choice, once and for all. I chose what was more important. My selfish desires were outweighed by my need to protect you. So now you know."

Dean couldn't move. He couldn't do anything. He was frozen on the spot, trying desperately to process all this information. Cas cared about him. Cas wanted to protect him. It was too much.

"I also know that Uriel came to visit you in St Martin's, and he said something to you about your mother. Would you mind telling me what he said?"

Dean stared at him and said, in an almost robotic tone, "My mom was killed because she got tangled up with Luke and his minions. One was sent to take Sam away when he was a baby to spite her, but she came into the nursery and he panicked and started the fire in order to get away."

It was almost a relief, getting this secret off his chest.

Cas was still looking at him.

"Please say something, Dean. Please react in some way to what I have just told you."

It was too much. It was all too much. Dean choked on something that was halfway between a gasp and a surprised laugh.  
"You can't just dump something like this on me and expect me to react calmly! I just - I can't do this right now." Without another word he turned and sped away, ignoring the sounds of Cas calling his name after him.

 

Two days later, Dean was drinking. Again. It turned out that Crowley had not left town, and he had called up Dean to invite him to a party in some rich kid's basement. Dean knew that running away from his problems did not make them go away - oh, yes, he knew that very well - but this was what he had learned to do, and old habits die hard. You have a problem you can't face. Solution: get drunk out of your mind for as long as you possibly can.

He was onto his third beer when somebody tapped him from behind. He stumbled around clumsily, and found that it was Charlie from the party at the Novaks'. She smiled warmly at him.

"I thought it was you. You okay there? You look a little wobbly."

"M'fine," he mumbled. She laughed.

"Yeah, right. You're pretty tipsy. You want to sit down?"

She was still talking, but Dean wasn't paying attention anymore. He had noticed somebody over her shoulder: Gabriel. Only, he didn't look like he usually did, with a cheeky smile plastered on his face and a candy bar in his hand. Instead, he had a strange look on his face, as if he was...worried.

Ah, shit. Cas must have told him everything.

But, instead of coming over, Gabriel just moved away. Dean had the uneasy feeling that he was biding his time for something. He just didn't know what.

"Dean? Dean! Are you still listening to me?" Charlie snapped her fingers in front of his face, shaking him out of his momentary trance.

"Sorry. Still listening," he said. Charlie raised an eyebrow.

"You seem very on edge. Are you sure it's wise to keep drinking?"

"Yes! I wanna get wasted," he insisted.

"I have a bad feeling about tonight," Charlie muttered.

 

It resulted that Charlie's bad feeling was correct. Forty minutes later, Dean had lost her somehow and was leaning against the wall, having lost all sense of time and place. Music pounded in his ears as he laughed quietly and sloshed his drink into a pot plant next to him. Faces moved around, but all of them were blurry.

Until one face stood out clear as day. Blue eyes. Black hair. Mouth twisted in concern.

He was standing by the doorway. Why? What was he doing here? He wasn't supposed to be here. Dean's temple throbbed and he closed his eyes, but when he opened them, Cas was standing directly in front of him.

"Dean, are you drunk? Stupid question. Of course you're drunk."

"Wha - what're you doing here?" Dean slurred. The blue eyes widened incredulously.

"Isn't it obvious? I came to get you! Gabriel called me, he was worried about you."

"No! No, m'fine, I swear. Cross my heart." Dean giggled.

"Dean, why do you have to do this to yourself? You know what? I don't care at the moment. I'm taking you home." After much drunken protesting on Dean's part, Cas managed to slip an arm around his shoulders and drag him out.

Unfortunately, once they were outside, Dean felt his stomach churn violently and he bent over, hands on knees, and puked behind a hedge. When he straightened, staggering backwards, Cas was looking up at the sky.

"What're you doing here?" he repeated, as if he'd only just noticed Cas.

"Let's go," was all Cas said, and he put his arm around Dean's back again and heaved him down the sidewalk.

"Why're you helping me?" Dean mumbled, staggering while Cas supported him.

"Because, despite how much you hate me, I am still your friend."

"No. Not my friend." But Dean sounded unsure this time.

"Sam will start to worry if you don't get home soon," was all Cas said. Dean leaned his head on his shoulder.

"I'm soooo drunk," he slurred.

 

There was no way Cas was getting Dean up the stairs to his apartment. Sighing, he pressed the button of the elevator. Dean whistled an out-of-tune Metallica song while they waited for the doors to open.

Once they were inside the elevator, Cas fought hard not to wrinkle his nose. It stank of urine and vomit, and there was a suspicious purple stain on one of the walls. Dean leaned back and would have fallen over if it weren't for Cas' hand grasping his arm and pulling him upright at the last second. The doors opened with a DING and Cas yanked Dean out and helped him to the door of the apartment.

"I need your key," Cas said to him. Dean made no sign that he had even heard him. Rolling his eyes, Cas plunged his hand into Dean's pocket and retrieved his key, turning to unlock the door.

It was a difficult feat trying to manoeuvre Dean around all the furniture and into his bedroom. Cas tried to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake Sam up in the next room. However, when they reached Dean's room, Cas almost froze in his tracks. Lost emotions ploughed into him like a truck as he looked around. The room was exactly as he had remembered it. Posters of cars and Led Zeppelin and AC/DC clustered the walls and the desk, shoved in the corner, was piled high with school books, dirty clothes and pictures of Sam. The bed in the opposite corner was unmade, with even more dirty clothes strewn on it.

There was only one thing missing. There were no more pictures of Cas. The last time he had been in here, there were  
pictures of him hung on the walls and littered on the desk. Pictures of him and Dean, arms around each other, grinning at the camera. Pictures of the two of them and Jo, Pamela, Chuck and Benny all in a group photo. Pictures of just him alone, looking at the camera or staring into the distance. They were all gone.

Cas swallowed hard, blinking his suddenly stinging eyes. Dean's head was lolling on his shoulder. He heaved him over to the bed and dropped him onto it. Dean rolled around so that he was on his stomach. He groaned into the pillow, then, soon enough began snoring. Cas rubbed a hand over his face. He couldn't leave Dean like this.

He gently eased the other boy's shoes off and placed them neatly at the bottom of his bed. He lifted the covers and laid them over Dean, and Dean shifted, pulling the covers tighter around himself.

Then Cas looked around the room. The place was an utter mess. Unable to stop himself, he took all the dirty laundry off Dean's bed and desk and piled it into the laundry basket. He then picked up about six empty beer bottles and put them in the bin. After about five more minutes of tidying, he cast one last long look at Dean. In sleep, he looked so innocent. His forehead was smoothed out, and his face was softer, more open. He looked vulnerable.

Cas felt a tug that resonated in his stomach. Even on that first day, thirteen years ago, when he was just four, he had known then and there that he'd never be able to shake the idea of Dean. The boy just never went away. He was always there in the crevices of his mind, with his sparkling green eyes and shit-eating grin. After everything, after all the hurt and misery and awful words, this was what it all came down to in the end. The way Cas felt when he looked at Dean. The way he felt when Dean talked. The way he felt when Dean laughed. This was it.

He'd follow him anywhere. To the ends of the earth and back.

 

Dean awoke to the sun streaming in through the open window. He blinked in the sudden harsh brightness, and sat up. Big mistake. It was as if a chorus of drums had just started banging away in his head. Hangovers were God's cruelest and most spiteful punishment.

He rubbed his hands over his face and groaned heavily. Ughhhhhhh.

Then he opened his eyes again and looked around his room. Holy SHIT. The place was almost spotless. There was no more dirty underwear on the desk and no more festering cups lying around. Someone had tidied up.

It couldn't have been Sam. Sam was barely able to keep his own room clean. So who...?

Oh. Oh, no. Dean flopped back as the events of last night all came surging back. Cas taking him from the party. Cas helping him home. Cas heaving him into bed. The memories were blurry, but Dean remembered enough. It could only have been Cas who had thought to clean Dean's room up. When he thought about it, it sounded exactly like something the guy would do.  
He couldn't let this go on. He couldn't keep letting this thing go unaddressed. He knew right there that his life could not go back to how it had been three weeks ago. All he knew was that, as much as he had been fooling himself, he would never be able to stay away from Cas. How could he have been so stupid as to think he would?

What they'd had was more than friendship. It was something hard to define and even harder to forget. He had been so lonely for so long. Wasn't it high time something was done about that, before he went insane?

Oh, damn it all.

 

Cas headed downstairs to make himself some breakfast. He had just gotten off the phone with Michael, who had said, in between interrogating him on his bible studies and drilling him about his grades, that he and Uriel were going to return in three weeks, while Zachariah would return about a week before that. This meant Cas and the others would have two more weeks of blissful freedom without having to worry about anything.

He closed his eyes briefly before opening the cupboard to retrieve a packet of cornflakes. He had just started pouring them into a bowl when he heard Gabriel yell at him from the television room at the front of the house.

"Cassie! Are you mentally prepared for what is probably a complete and utter shit-storm?"

Cas hurried down the chandelier-lit hallway and entered the room. Gabriel had his back to him and was staring out the window.

"I...um...I don't think so. Why?" he said uncertainly. Gabriel turned to him, eyebrows raised.

"Because Dean Winchester has been pacing directly outside our house for the past -" he checked his watch - "...seven minutes."

"What?" Cas ran up next to Gabriel and, sure enough, just in front of the window, Dean was pacing up and down the sidewalk directly in front of their house. Every now and then, he would pause, look at the door, rub a hand over his face and resume his pacing.

"Well?" said Gabriel. He was looking at Cas expectantly.

"Well, what?" he asked. Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"Aren't you going to go outside and talk to him?"

Cas looked out of the window. Dean obviously had something he needed to say.

"All right."

He headed down the hall and opened the door to find Dean directly in front of it, hand raised, ready to knock.

"Oh...hi," Dean said sheepishly.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean looked around, as if looking for an escape.

"Can - can I talk to you for a minute?"

Cas eyed him, trying to gauge the situation. Eventually, he nodded, closed the door behind him and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Dean followed him.

"What is it you wish to talk about?" Cas asked. Dean closed his eyes, took a shaky breath, and opened them again. He focused on a spot a little above Cas' head.

"Okay. What...what you said last year hurt...a lot. I'm guessing you know that. It still hurts. But, I know-" he broke off, his chest rising and falling. "I know, now, why you said it, and you were being selfless. Like you always are. But...you've been a part of my life for as long as I can remember, and that will never change. I mean, even when I hated you, you were still putting me first, and I can't just let that go. I get that Zachariah doesn't want us to be friends, but I say screw him, okay? Just..." He trailed off again. "Please - please say something, Cas."

Cas smiled, a ghost of a smile.

"You know, that's the first time you've said my name out loud in almost a year."

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What are you talking about? Of course I have."

"Maybe, but that's the first time you've said it to my face."

Dean frowned and looked at his shoes, frustrated. He couldn't seem to be able to convey what he was trying to say.

"This - this is serious. Okay? I've been empty for a long time and it's been drilled into my head to the point where I actually believed it that forgetting about you would help me heal. But forgetting about you would mean forgetting the whole of my life up to this point. I know the situation is all shades of fucked up, but I am sure of one thing. And that's...that's you. So. Please say something now because this has shot way past the line of chick flick moment and skyrocketed into the utter oblivion of chick flicks." He looked up under his brow to find that Castiel's slight smile had disappeared and been replaced with soft look of something Dean couldn't quite place.

"Dean...I don't know what to say..." he trailed off and Dean saw a crease appear between his eyebrows. He shuffled, opening and closing his mouth, until a decisive sort of resolve settled into his eyes and his mouth curled up at the corners into a huge smile and he looked at Dean. Really looked at him. And said five, simple words.

"I've missed you, my friend."

Dean reached up and pulled Cas fiercely to him, and Cas' arms went around Dean's back. For how long, they weren't sure, the boys clung to each other like lifelines while the sun set and the world slowed around them.


	8. Gabriel's Great Idea

Bela Talbot sat on the hood of Lisa's car, kicking her legs back and forth, surveying the school. Two girls walked past, chatting and chewing gum. Bela shuddered. In her opinion, gum was humanity's most disgusting creation.

Leaning back and reclining on the front of the car in order to get the sun on her face, she twirled in her fingers the keys to her dad's sports car that she'd stolen and abandoned on the side of the road yesterday. Of course, she had done it to spite her father, but now she regretted leaving the car. It was classy.

Just as she closed her eyes contentedly, she heard Lisa's exclamation of surprise from the front seat behind her. She sat up immediately, pushing her sunglasses off her face.

"What? What is it?" she demanded, scanning the parking lot, half-anxiously and half-eagerly.

Then she saw it.

Dean Winchester's old 1967 Chevrolet Impala had just pulled up, and Dean had climbed out of the driver's seat and Sam had climbed out the passenger seat. That was nothing new. What WAS new - and very, very interesting - was that Castiel Novak had just stepped out of the back seat.

However, Bela knew that this scenario was impossible. Everybody had been buzzing when Dean and Castiel had begun to drift apart. They'd been best friends - some theorised that they'd been more than that - for as long as anyone could remember, and the idea of anything different to that had just seemed absurd. Then, after Christmas break, the whole school had been in uproar when Dean OD'd and was sent to a psychiatric hospital.

Bela had been one of the first to know, of course. She always was. 

But now she watched, astonished, as Castiel looked at Dean in wonder, like he couldn't believe he was really walking beside him. Dean ruffled Sam's hair before Sam ran off to join his friends in freshman year.

He turned to Castiel and smiled lopsidedly.

Bela had had enough. She leapt gracefully off the hood of the car, pushed her sunglasses back off her face and stalked towards them.

 

Dean narrowed his eyes warily as he watched Bela approach them. Sure, he knew people would be curious, but Bela's prying always got under his skin. He loathed her.

Bela stopped in front of Dean and Cas and placed her hands on her hips. For a while, nobody said anything, but when he could see that Bela could bear it no longer, she opened her mouth.

"What is this?" she said in her best spoiled-little-girl voice. Dean raised an eyebrow.

"Don't you have boys to be torturing or valuables to be stealing or something?" he asked her. She smirked and gestured between him and Cas.

"Don't get me wrong, it's great that you two have worked out whatever little problems you had going on, but I know this school. And the people don't accommodate well to change. And this? This is going to cause some big change. The kind that people don't like. The kind that ruins people and lives. I thought you two would have realised that from the whole fiasco of last year. You two are a train-wreck waiting to happen. Scratch that. You're a train wreck that already has happened, and is now attempting to go back in time to recreate the crash for old times' sake. Now, I'm all about the power of love, but the love that you two seem to have? It destroys. It destroys people and it destroys yourselves. And the sooner you realise that, the better it'll be. For all of us."

"Bela?" Dean asked. 

"Yes?"

"Would you please go screw yourself? Thanks. Goodbye." With that, he steered Cas around her and together they trudged up to the school doors. 

"Fine! Go and start up whatever you want," Bela called after them. "But don't expect me or the school to clean up your mess when you're done. Just mark my words, Dean. You've triggered a storm!"

 

Cas couldn't help but beam at how Dean never let Bela get to him. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to walk up to the school with his best friend.

Best friend. He felt safe in calling Dean that again. Over the weekend, Dean had explained to Sam what happened, and when Cas came over to the apartment, Sam had smiled a huge smile and tackled him with a hug.

Of course, things hadn't magically gone back to the way they used to be overnight. Cas wasn't sure if they ever would. But he did know that he wouldn't be letting Dean go again any time soon.

Dean held the doors open for him, and the first thing he noticed was how people immediately began muttering. He'd expected this, though. And, now, in a funny way...he almost welcomed it.

He spotted Gabriel grinning at them down the hall and led Dean down to him. Gabriel looked proudly at them both walking side by side. He gestured for them both to follow him down an empty corridor, and when the three of them were alone, he slipped his backpack off his shoulder and unzipped it.

"What're you doing?" asked Cas cautiously. He knew from experience that the look on Gabriel's face meant that trouble wasn't too far on the horizon.

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

"Relax, will you, Cassie? I'm just showing you guys something awesome."

Dean snorted. "Yeah, your definition of awesome isn't exactly the same as everybody else's definition of awesome," he said, leaning against the wall and propping his right foot behind him.

Gabriel reached into his bag and pulled out a piece of paper. He looked up at them both, his eyes full of mischievous euphoria.

"Well?' he asked expectantly. Dean and Cas were silent for a moment.

"Uh, Gabe, what exactly are we looking at?" Dean asked finally.

Gabriel sighed, and Cas remembered how he often supposed that Gabriel expected everybody to immediately be on the same wavelength as him, when they just weren't.

"This," his brother said, holding the paper up as if it was surrounded in a bright, holy glow. "This is an acceptance letter from the Principal and the school board."

Cas and Dean still wore equally blank looks. Gabriel heaved another huge sigh, straightened out the paper and cleared his throat.

"Dear Miss Rachel Novak. We have discussed your proposition extensively and throughly, and have come to a conclusion. We are extremely pleased to inform you that we have decided to accept your plan..." Gabriel paused, a huge grin spreading across his face - "...to send the senior year students at Lawrence High School for a four-day trip to stay at Sauer Castle! We are extremely grateful for your generous donation towards the funding of the trip and we are sure that the students will have a fantastic yet educational time, as the house has a rich history and blah, blah, blah, so on. But you know what the best thing is?" he asked excitedly. Dean and Cas shook their heads. "There will be no teachers there. None whatsoever. I managed to get Rachel to spin her letter as if the trip will aim to 'show the students what it's like to live without elder supervision while still providing educational information'. This is amazing, guys."

Dean pushed off the wall and stepped forward. 

"Wait...Rachel. Isn't that your loaded aunt who lives in Georgia?"

"Yep. That's her. I've been in contact with her for a while. The dates when the trip is happening - the twenty-fourth to the twenty-eighth of November - are the dates when Zachariah, Uriel and Michael are due to arrive home, which gives us a little extra time away from them, and also the perfect place to do some hardcore partying. They're announcing the trip to the seniors today in homeroom. Everybody is literally going to be kissing my shoes for the rest of eternity just to repay me for doing this great service for all of them."

Gabriel had finally stopped talking, and Cas looked sideways at Dean.

"What do you think?" he asked him. Dean looked thoughtful.

"I think...that this is absolutely amazing! How the hell did you manage to get your aunt to agree to paying for this?" 

Gabriel shrugged, a half-smirk on his face.

"Oh, you know, just kinda made her feel exceptionally guilty for leaving us poor kids to the mercy of our cruel, cruel carers. Mind you, Anna and Balthazar are gonna give us absolute shit for leaving them alone when the tyrants return. Oops. I didn't think of that. Great. Anna will probably punch me in the balls again." With that, he put the letter back in his backpack, heaved it back on his shoulders and skipped off down the hallway.

Dean turned to Cas, his face open with excitement and ecstasy.

"This. Is. Awesome. Four days of non-stop partying. In. A freaking. Castle."

Cas felt a smile emerging onto his own face when he saw the sparkle in Dean's bright green eyes. It had been so long since there'd been any light in those eyes at all, and Cas was glad that he was at least part of the reason for that sparkle's return.

 

True to Gabriel's word, the seniors were informed about the trip to Sauer Castle in homeroom that day. The entirety of Dean's class had cheered and whooped upon learning that they'd spend a full four days in a castle on their own with no adult supervision. It really was a wish come true.

While they were all packing up their stuff to go home, Chuck turned around from the desk in front to face Dean. He adjusted his glasses and smiled.

"So, I hear the Dream Team is back together?" he said. It took Dean a second to realise that Chuck was talking about him and Cas. It took him another second to remember that Chuck was the editor of the school newspaper, and was therefore always looking for new stories to write about. As if he could read Dean's mind, Chuck's eyes widened and he hurried to say,

"Oh, no, no, no! I wasn't trying to fish around for stories or anything like that. I'm just really happy for you guys. You both seem...I don't know, lighter already. Brighter. It's so good to see you happy again. Maybe, now, the group could...you know, like old times-" he broke off, as if catching himself before he said anything else. Dean could almost visibly see the sadness filling Chuck's entire being, and it made him feel physically sick. "N-never mind. I'd better go. It was nice talking to you, Dean. Even though I was the only one talking. And now I'm rambling. I'll - I'll see you tomorrow." Without another word, Chuck grabbed his bag and scuttled out of the room, leaving Dean wondering how, in a matter of minutes, he could have gone from feeling lighter than he had in months to feeling like the weight of the world had crashed down on him. 

He should have known his euphoria was too good to be true. He thought of Jo, Pam, Chuck and Benny. All his old friends. Of course, after seeing Dean and Cas mend ties - or, at least, begin to - Chuck would have started to cling to the idea that everything could go back to the way it had been before. It was hardly even an idea, anyway. It was more of a hope. A wish. Dean's other friends did not forgive as easily as Chuck and Cas. Dean doubted that, after tearing himself to pieces and leaving his soul behind in the warpath, Jo, Pam and Benny would have any respect for him left at all. 

All of a sudden, he was acutely aware that he was alone in an empty classroom, standing there staring into space like a lunatic. He grabbed his bag and jacket in a rush and, pushing the darkness to the furthest crevices of his mind, headed out into the parking lot.

 

It was a week before the senior visit to Sauer Castle and Dean was sat on the gate outside the park near to his house. Crowley had texted him to meet up there at five o' clock and was currently running late. Sighing, Dean leaned back against the tree behind him and closed his eyes.

"You look tired," remarked a familiar voice from the ground. Dean opened his eyes again to find Crowley, decked out in his usual attire - which consisted of white shirts, black trousers and a waistcoat that looked like it belonged in the nineteenth century. Crowley arched an eyebrow as Dean leapt off the gate and landed unsteadily on the ground.

"Didn't get much sleep," he said, scanning the older boy, disappointed to find that he hadn't brought any alcohol.

As they headed down the path in the park, Crowley said,

"I don't see you as much anymore. Sad, really. What's the matter, too good for me now?"

Dean thought of blue eyes, dark messy hair and trench coats. Yes, he could certainly do much better than Crowley. But no way was he going to voice that to him.

"I've been busy," was all he said.

"Oh, don't tell me you've started paying attention to your grades NOW? Sorry to break it to you, but it's too late, my friend."

My friend.

"No, I haven't been paying attention to my grades, and I probably never will."

"Well, what is it, then? Because, in my experience, you're never busy, because you have no life, no friends and no future."

"Maybe you don't know me that well, then," Dean snapped. Crowley stopped walking.

"Somebody got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"Look, I'm sorry," Dean sighed. "Just distracted, that's all."

"Why, what happened?" Crowley pressed. "Did you get a girlfriend or something?"

"No!"

"Boyfriend?"

"N-no." Luckily, Crowley didn't pick up on how Dean stumbled over that word.

"Hey, I'm not judging. I'm not picky either. Honestly, I go for anything that's willing to have me. Although, I draw the line at young children, elderly people and animals. Well, apart from one exception. There was this one hot fifty-one year old-"

"Please, for the love of all things beautiful, stop talking right there. I really don't need to hear it."

Crowley looked slightly offended.

"I was only having a joke. She WAS hot though-"

"I'm going home. Goodbye." Dean began trudging back up the path back to his house. Crowley hurried after him.

"Hey! Deanio! Wait! Wow, you really are crabby today."

The truth was, Dean wasn't just feeling exceptionally crabby. What really happened was that it had just hit him that Crowley was Dean in a couple of years' time. If he kept going on the way he was now, he would end up exactly where Crowley was standing. No job, broke, wasted half the time, fucking anything that moves and in the middle of a slightly strange relationship with a high school waster that lost his way. Crowley had fixated on Dean because he was young and destined to end up just like him, which meant that Crowley was sure to never be alone. Dean would become that, while Sam went off to law school with Jess, his father would undoubtedly drink himself to death and Cas...Cas would probably realise how much of a fucking mess Dean was, get caught up in Zachariah's shady yet wealthy dealings and forget all about Dean. Dean would just become That Friend. The one who went off the rails. The one that Cas was glad to finally be rid of so he wouldn't have to show him off at dinner parties.

He could see it all, his entire glorious future mapped out in front of his eyes. It was all bound to happen. And, in the end of it all, Dean would end up alone, with no one but Crowley to be there while he drank and drugged himself into oblivion.

And, so help him, if it was the last thing he did, he would not allow that to happen.

"This is the last time you'll be seeing me, Crowley," he called over his shoulder, before heading home to do his homework and take out the old picture drawn by Cas. The picture that had driven him to the edge last year.

After all this time, he still hadn't been able to throw it away. Maybe, throughout everything, some part of him - no matter how tiny - had known they'd always find their way back to each other. That was the way it worked.

Right?


	9. The Trip That Was A Bad Idea

Dean was in Chemistry class when it happened.

He'd been paired with Gabriel - why was the world so cruel? - and was doing his best to ignore the other boy's constant stream of chatter. It was hard. Gabriel was just about in love with the sound of his own voice.

He was about to pour liquid nitrogen very carefully into a container, when Lisa Braeden chose that exact moment to look behind her and smile directly at him. In a momentary fit of surprise, Dean jumped and almost spilled the nitrogen everywhere. That would have been bad. Very, very bad. Luckily, he managed to keep it all in the container and glanced up to see Lisa's friends nudging her and giggling.

He tried to get back to his work, but caught sight of Gabriel eyeing him, a strange expression on his face,

"What's wrong?" he asked him. Gabriel shrugged distractedly.

"Nothing I just...uh...are you into Lisa Braeden?"

Dean was taken aback.

"I, well, we used to go out a couple of years ago. It didn't end well. But, I don't know. I haven't hooked up in a while, so..."

A crease formed between Gabriel's eyebrows. He looked as though he was trying to solve a difficult equation.

"I thought...but, what about..." he trailed off, clamping his lips together. Dean continued to stare at him.

"What about what?" he pressed. Gabriel shook his head.

"Never mind. Doesn't matter."

Dean could tell that something was off, after that. The crease never left between Gabriel's eyebrows and he was unusually quiet. Dean had to shake the feeling that Gabriel knew - or guessed - something he didn't. 

 

The Sunday before the trip to Sauer Castle, Dean was sat on the hood of his car, waiting beside a park where Sam was playing soccer with his friends. It was late evening, and stars were beginning to be visible in the dark sky. Across the road, Dean spotted Cas round the corner and enter the park with his sister, Anna. Dean was about to call him over, when he saw him stop and look up to the sky.

He watched as a small smile tilted the corner of Cas' mouth. He remembered one night, a lifetime ago, when the two of them had camped out in Cas' back lawn. They had lain side-by-side in their sleeping bags, staring up to the heavens while Cas pointed out all the different constellations and the North Star and the Dog Star. Dean hadn't really understood it all, but he'd just enjoyed lying there and listening to him talk.

After a minute or so, Cas and Anna continued to walk down the path into the park, and Dean let them go, absorbed in long-forgotten memories.

 

Later that night, Cas was preparing to do some Politics coursework. Realising he had to use a computer, he headed downstairs to Michael's office, where the only computer in the house resided.

He cautiously pushed open the door. He knew it was ridiculous, but even though he knew Michael wasn't in there, it still worried him to enter his office without explicit permission. The room was spotless. The desk took up one long wall at the far end, just beneath the shuttered window. Papers were nearly filed and stacked in each corner, and two boxes full of colour-coordinated pencils sat either side of the huge modern computer. He crossed the short distance from the door to the chair and eased himself down. Smiling to himself as he remembered that he had memorised Michael's supposedly-secret password, he turned it on and keyed in. Once he had access to the computer, he was about to open the web browser when a single file in the icons caught his eye.

It simply read, "Luke Novak'.

No. He shouldn't. It was Michael's private file. He shouldn't even have been using the computer in the first place.

But why on earth would Michael have a file about his criminal brother who was supposed to have severed all ties with them thirteen years ago?

Then Castiel asked himself, 'what would Dean do?'

So he clicked the file.

It took him about half an hour to read the whole thing. There was a lot there. He sat, frozen in his seat, until he reached the end.

He couldn't believe this. He knew that his elders had some questionable dealings, but THIS? This was...he couldn't even find the words to describe what it was.

In the file, was all information about Luke's targeted areas. And the information on how to cover up his tracks as he went.

Passages and passages of crime scene descriptions, and annotations remarking how best to get rid of evidence that incriminated Luke. Records of secret emails exchanged between Zachariah, Michael, Luke and, more recently, Uriel as well. They'd actually discussed with each other which places Luke should go to next, and which people he should make suffer.

Cas' heart had jumped painfully when he'd discovered the messages exchanged about Mary Winchester. Apparently, she'd stumbled upon a drug smuggling going on between Luke and an Italian shipping company, and he'd stalked her for weeks, making his presence known, making sure she knew she was never alone. Not ever. Not for one single second. Eventually, she'd had enough and threatened to contact the police and the FBI. Luke'd decided he had to silence her. But he had more sadistic means. Instead of just outright killing her, he sent one of his minions to steal six-month-old Sam Winchester from where he lay in his cradle. He couldn't even be bothered to do it himself. Mary had walked in and witnessed the attempted abduction, and the man had panicked and tied her to a chair. He'd proceeded to call Luke and ask him what to do, and Luke had replied with one, bored sentence:

"Burn the fucking house down."

So he did. But he hadn't bargained on the lengths John Winchester would go to save his family. He'd leapt into the room as soon as he'd heard the screams and scooped Sam out of his cradle. Of course, none of them knew exactly what happened beyond that point, but they'd hazarded good guesses: John had looked at his wife, burning up, and forced himself to leave her as she was already dead. He'd probably lumped Sam into little four-year old Dean's arms, as many people had witnessed the young boy stumble-running out of the burning house, his baby brother in his arms, closely followed by his crying father. After that, their lives had shattered forever.

Luke had been just sixteen when this happened.

Cas couldn't even imagine the things he was capable of now, at twenty-nine years old, if he had been practically a child when he'd done this.

There were endless records of cover ups and planning, each crime more horrific than the next. The people he had, once upon a time, looked up to, were guilty of countless crimes.

Feeling like he had aged a hundred years, Cas slowly closed the file, turned the computer off and went upstairs. He stayed awake into the long hours of the night, staring vacantly up at the ceiling.

 

It was the day of the trip, and Dean leaned against the side of the big coach, preparing to say goodbye to Sam.

Sam, however, was seething,

"I can't believe you're leaving me alone with him," he grumbled.

"Lighten up, Sammy. It's only four freaking days," Dean replied, rolling his eyes.

"He'll probably get drunk."

"Presumably."

"And me and him will end up fighting."

"Probably."

"And then he'll break something and stomp off into his stinky, dirty bedroom."

"Most definitely."

Sam punched him in the shoulder.

"Hey!" he said indignantly, rubbing his shoulder.

"Don't be a baby. I barely grazed you."

"If you're gonna be a grump, go home. I don't wanna see your sulky face."

Sam's mouth widened into a sweet, butter-wouldn't-melt smile that transformed his face. It was almost convincing, if Dean didn't know him as well as he did. He huffed.

"Well, now you're just takin' the piss," he complained. Sam stuck out his tongue, but his face softened.

"Have fun, Dean. I think you really need it."

Dean smiled sadly.

"I'll see you soon, Sammy."

"Bye." Sam headed off to the car that was parked a little further down, where John was waiting for him. Once Sam had climbed in, he honked his horn in a bizarre way of saying goodbye and drove off.

Dean turned around and saw Cas approaching from the other end of the road next to Gabriel. Gabe was - as usual - bounding along, a light spring in his step and a demented smile on his face. Cas, though, was deep in his thoughts, and they didn't look like very pleasant ones. His forehead was pinched with anxiety, and his normally fluffy hair was lying flat, as if it was drooping along with the rest of him.

Gabriel threw an arm around Dean when they'd crossed the road.

"Deanio, my main man!" he cried. Dean tried to focus on Cas, but focusing on anything is hard when Gabriel Novak is trying to get your attention. He was a persistent little shit.

Cas was looking down at the ground, scuffing his feet on the concrete. His backpack was halfway down his shoulders, and Dean had to resist the temptation to set it right. The dark, purple shadows had returned under Cas' eyes, which caused Dean to suspect that he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep.

At that moment, he felt a tap on his free shoulder and craned his neck to see Jo standing there, somewhat apprehensively. He shrugged Gabriel off - which caused him to scowl indignantly - and turned to face her. She smiled, nervously but determinedly.

"Hey, Dean. Hi, Cas," she ignored Gabriel's presence, which obviously made him even more sulky. She prepared herself and her breath came out all in a rush. "I just wanted to say that I think it's great you two are together again and I hope you've been well and maybe we can all catch up at the castle? Okay, bye." Without giving either of them time to reply, she scuttled back over to Pam, Chuck and Benny, who all wore the same hesitant smiles that she did.

He took a deep breath and, with the tiniest of smiles, gave them a small, tenuous wave. Their smiles widened and they all waved back.

Dean felt another piece of the darkness slip away.

Once they had all loaded themselves onto the bus, Miss Masters, their evil History teacher, stood at the front of the coach.

"All right, quiet down! It'll take about forty-five minutes to an hour to get to Kansas City, depending on the traffic. I suggest you all sit tight and find some shit to entertain yourselves with. As you were."

Dean, Cas and Gabriel had managed to snag the row of seats at the back. As the coach sputtered and rumbled to life, Cas looked out the window that he was sitting next to, his breath creating fog on the glass.

Dean studied him. It was the first time in almost a year that he was able to get a good, long look at him. Cas' hair had (if it was possible) grown darker and messier. It hung over his forehead and stuck up in different places. It was good hair.

Sex hair.

His facial features had matured as well. In the short space of a year, his face had lost its childish roundness and sharpened out, showing defined cheekbones and strong jawline. His eyelashes were impossibly dark and long, casting shadows on his face.

With a shock, Dean realised that Cas had become...elegant.

He'd filled out, too. He used to be tiny and scrawny, but now, although he was still quite short, Dean could see the beginnings of hard muscle.

As if sensing the weight of Dean's gaze, Cas slowly turned around and set his blue eyes on him. They both studied each other, as if an unasked and unanswered question had risen between them.

Dean was the first to look away.

 

The coach first stopped off at the hotel where the teachers were staying. Before she went, Miss Masters addressed the seniors.

"Now, you will be alone in the building for the majority of the time, but, mark my words, if anything at all untoward happens, we will find out about it." A sudden smile on her face startled them. "Have fun, kids!"

Finally, after ten more minutes of driving, they arrived at the castle.

It was smaller than Dean had expected. It looked less castle-y and more manor-house-y. Nonetheless, it was pretty freaking amazing that the students would spend four whole days in that huge place with no adult supervision. It was unreal.

Most kids had figured out some way to sneak alcohol into their luggage. There were already rumours going round of a big party planned that night, that most likely were started by Gabriel. Dean spotted Benny and Jo in what seemed like an intense discussion; both of them were speaking over each other and making emphatic hand gestures. 

They all filed into the castle-slash-manor and everybody raced to find the best rooms. Gabriel went off to share with one of his friends, leaving Cas and Dean to find a room on their own. They found one down a large hall. Once he had placed his bag down, he looked over at Cas, who was sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched over in thought.

Dean cleared his throat.

"You okay?" he asked. Cas looked up.

"I'm fine, thank you," he replied. Dean nodded, but he wasn't an idiot. Once you've known somebody for most of your life, you start to notice things, such as when they are very far from fine.

 

The party had started and Dean was frowning.

They'd all spent most of the day exploring the house, but now it was nine o'clock and they'd all filed into the huge room downstairs. Now, Dean was standing at a table, scowling at the beer in his hand. It was his third one, and he hated it. Why did it always come down to this? After everything, he still wanted to drink himself to oblivion. Just like his father.

Also, he was frigging confused about the way he'd looked at Cas earlier.

His tremors - long-term effects of the overdose - had been particularly bad today. He was barely able to hold his cup steady in front of him, and he was fucking frustrated with himself.

He looked up to see that Lisa had approached him. She was smiling, ever shy, as she watched him.

"Heya, Dean. How're you doing?" she asked.

"Uh...good. I'm doing good."

"That's really great to hear," she said sincerely.

Dean's alcohol-infused brain struggled to comprehend that. She...thought it was great that he was doing good?  
He couldn't think straight and his vision was full of her looking up at him, wide-eyed, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. 

Then she placed her hand on his arm.

Oh. Oh.

He was still blinking stupidly in the strange lighting when he saw her tilt her head towards him.

 

Cas was tipsy. He knew from his one and only experience with alcohol that, after only one beer, he was hammered. So he didn't exactly know why he'd accepted the cup that Gabriel had thrust into his hand. Only knew that he had drank it, and was tipsy.

It probably had something to do with the horrifying information he had discovered about his family. Or maybe he was simply beginning to enjoy the simpler pleasures of life.

He sighed. Trust him to get all deep-thinking and depressive after intaking alcohol. 

He spotted Jo making her way towards him, and waved manically at her, then slowly lowering his arm when he realised what he was doing. When she reached him, he giggled, which caused her to widen her eyes.

"Hey, Cas...are you all right?" she asked worriedly.

"Oh, I'm fine! Amazing, actually. I should drink more often," he said. She nodded slowly.

"Anyway, I saw you alone and thought 'I can't have that' so I got you a drink. Here." She handed him another beer, and he - like the fool that he was - drank it quickly and subsequently gave a spluttering cough.

"Woah!" Jo exclaimed in alarm. "You might wanna slow down there, buddy."

"Yeah...sorry," he said sheepishly. Smiling, Jo patted him on the shoulder.

"You really are a different person when you're drunk. Hey, where's Dean?"

"I don't actually know," he said, looking around. He couldn't see Dean.

"You know, I'm really glad you two have mended it. I could tell how sad you both were for a long time after...you know. If we're being honest here, it was actually kind of surreal to see one of you without the other."

"Yeah," Cas said, nodding several times. It was always him and Dean. That idea made him smile. He thought of twinkling green eyes and sandy hair. "Yeah," he said, more forcefully. "Actually, I'm going to go and find him right this minute. Be right back."

He weaved unsteadily through the crowd, accidentally knocking into several people and stumbling away from them. He didn't know what exactly he was going to do when he found Dean, but he just wanted to find him. His ears buzzed and his heart beat joyfully.

Then he stopped in his tracks.

He had found Dean, all right - his face glued to Lisa Braeden's, making out intensely.

The music and shouting and laughing continued, but to Cas, the room was silent. The only sound he registered was his paper cup slipping out of his fingers and thudding on the ground.


	10. Spin the Bottle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Judging by the chapter title, I'm pretty sure you can all guess what's gonna go down in here. Most of what's gonna go down, anyway.

At three-thirty am, Dean finally managed to stumble up and into his and Cas' room. He lumbered in, peering into the darkness and seeing Cas sprawled out on his bed. 

"Cas, buddy, you awake?" he slurred. No reply. Exhausted, he shuffled over to his own bed and collapsed on top of it, feeling vomit rising, but managed to keep it down. Soon enough, he drifted into a hazy, fitful sleep, where images of Lisa Braeden and castles that looked like manors and tan trench coats filled his dreams.

At half-two in the afternoon, he finally awoke, blinking in the harsh light that streamed in through the pale curtains. Somehow, in the night, he had managed to shove the covers off of himself and they lay in a discarded heap on the ground by his bed. Rubbing his eyes and aching forehead, he glanced over at Cas' bed, which was now empty. Yawning, he forced himself to climb out of the bed and stretch, raising his arms above his head. He sat back down on the bed and wiped a hand over his face. Most people were probably awake by now, so he got up and headed downstairs into what must have been a sitting room.

He spotted Bela Talbot lying across a couch, an arm covering her face dramatically. Two of her cronies were anxiously fluttering around her, asking if she was all right and if she needed some water. He rolled his eyes. On the other side of the room, Gordon Walker was reclining in an armchair, looking out of the window. He turned and saw Dean, and his mouth twisted into a mocking, taunting sneer.

"You look like crap, Winchester," he commented. Dean gave him one of his best smirks.

"Right back at you."

Gordon frowned and resumed staring out the window. 

Dean left the room and padded down a hallway and into another room, where there was a long, brown, oak table. Jo and Cas were sitting at it, deep in discussion. A forgotten plate of food sat in front of Cas. They both looked up and saw him at the same time. Jo smiled tiredly, but an odd expression crossed Cas' face and he looked down at the table, not meeting Dean's eye. He sat down across from them and slid the plate of food over to himself. He was starving.

"You gonna eat this?" he asked Cas, who shook his head. He lifted the half-heartedly picked at burger and took a ferocious bite.

"The party last night was pretty good," he said, his mouth full.

"Yeah," Jo agreed. She turned to Cas. "Although I didn't see you again after our conversation. Where were you?"

"I went upstairs. I was quite tired." Cas was still looking at the table. There was obviously something wrong with him. 

"Have any of you guys seen Gabriel?" Jo asked.

"No," Dean replied. "Why?"

"He snuck rotten eggs into my purse because I sabotaged his science project. I want to find him and slap him upside the head."

Right on cue, Gabriel came running into the doorway, followed by three guys struggling to carry a keg of beer between themselves.

"Everyone into the party room, asap! We're playing spin the bottle, you little shits."

Most people groaned and shook their heads. Gabriel's face fell.

"Aw, come on, guys! It'll be fun!"

"Gabe, it's the freaking afternoon. Most of us are still recovering from last night," said Dean. Gabriel scoffed.

"Y'all are a bunch of wimps. Come on, let's go, guys!" More moaning. "You are some of the most boring people I have ever met. You three will play, won't you?" he said, looking imploringly at Dean, Jo and Cas.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm coming," announced Jo, pushing her chair back and standing up.

"If you are, so am I," declared Dean. He looked at Cas, whose hair was ruffled and messy. "You coming?"

"Okay," said Cas.

It ended up that there were sixteen of them playing altogether, including Dean, Cas, Jo, Gabriel, Pam, Benny and a bunch of others. They were all sat in a circle, and each person had a paper cup full of beer that they were drinking, while one bottle lay in the middle.

"Now," said Gabriel. "I'm assuming you all already know the rules of this game, but just in case you don't, or you play it differently, I'm gonna explain them again. It is fairly straightforward. One person spins the bottle, and whoever it lands on had to kiss them. Then the person it landed on must spin the bottle again, and so on. No chickening out or pathetic kisses. I want hot, racy ones, and maybe even a little tongue. There is to be no discrimination or homophobia. If it lands on a woman, you kiss them. If it lands on a man, you kiss them. The bottle doesn't care what freaking sexuality you are, so if you have a problem with that, leave now." Nobody stood up. Gabriel clapped his hands together. "Great! As they say, on with the show. I'll start, then."

He drained his beer, then shook himself out, and placed a hand on the bottle, a grin on his face. He spun it, and it went around once, twice, three, four times before settling on Jo. She sighed.

"Great. That's just fantastic."

"Oh, be quiet, darling," Gabriel said, crawling across the space between them. "I know you love me really."

"I'm still getting you back for the rotten eggs," Jo reminded him, before their lips met in a sloppy, messy kiss that lasted for maybe ten seconds. People cheered and whooped, before they broke apart and she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, making a disgusted noise.

"Geez, how much saliva can one person produce?" she complained.

"Give it a rest, buttercup," Gabriel said, settling back in his seat. "All right, your turn. Off you go."

Jo span it, and it landed on Pam. They both wore identical grins and kissed, making everybody cheer and chug their beer.

And so the game went on. People kissed, people argued, people laughed, and the bottle kept spinning.

 

Eventually, it had landed on Pam again and she spun it, when it landed on Dean. She raised her eyebrows, smiling mischievously.

"Finally, I get to kiss a decent-looking boy," she said, making everyone laugh. 

"Oh, shut it, Pam. You're making me blush," Dean replied, before she crawled over, grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him passionately, causing him to make a surprised noise. Once it was over, she pushed him back and punched her fists in the air.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you kiss Dean Winchester," she said proudly, while everybody whooped and giggled hysterically.

Then it was Dean's turn.

 

Cas held his breath while Dean reached forward and prepared to spin the bottle. He watched and Dean twisted it in his hand before letting go.

It seemed to take an age for the bottle to spin around. It went round and round and round on the floor while everybody's eyes followed it, until, finally, it began to slow and came to a steady stop.

Pointing right at Cas.

He could hear everybody gasp. It wasn't like Dean and Cas' tear-splattered history was uncommon knowledge.

With heavy eyes, he raised his gaze to Dean, who looked like a deer trapped in the headlights. Right then and there, Cas cursed the beer bottle for choosing him. Out of every single person in the circle, why did it have to be him?

"The bottle has spoken!" Gabriel declared. 

Dean took a heaving breath.

"Well, here goes nothin'" he mumbled, before reaching forwards and touching his lips to Cas'.

He tasted sweeter than Cas had expected. For some reason, he'd imagined him to taste salty and rough, but his mouth was soft, and Cas only barely stopped himself from gasping. The kiss created a thunderstorm inside his stomach, and he felt like his insides were doing acrobatics. He was sure Dean could feel his heart thrashing against his ribcage, which was sure to humiliate him. He steeled himself, then parted his lips slightly. Dean's tongue touched the tip of his, only lightly and only for a second, but it was enough to make him tremble.

Then, all of a sudden, it was over, and Dean was leaning away, his eyes bright and a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead.  
Cas was glad he wasn't the only one at least slightly flustered.

 

That night, Dean sat outside on a bench. He studied the roses in the flowerbed, and listened to the crickets chirp away in the dark. After the game, people had dispersed, and Cas had wandered off on his own, muttering something about 'wanting to think'. Dean had spent the rest of the day aimlessly exploring the castle with Gabriel, whose nonstop stream of consciousness and chatter made up fully for his quietness.

He heard footsteps to his right, and turned to find Bela walking up to him, swaying her hips side to side.

"You and I need to have a talk," she said, pointing at him.

"Well, go on, then. Talk," he said, spreading his arms. She stood in front of him, looking down at him. He didn't know why she didn't sit down. Probably because it made her feel superior.

"Don't play innocent with me," she snarled. "I know all about that little make-out session you shared with Lisa last night."

"Right," he said slowly. "Any why would that be of any concern to you?"

"Because Lisa's my friend, and it's my job to protect her."

"Protect her?"

"Yes. Protect her. Lisa's been in love with you ever since freshman year and it isn't healthy. You're not good for her. For anyone."

Dean stood up so that he was taller than her. "And what's that supposed to mean?" he said dangerously. She glared up at him, unfazed.

"Darkness comes in different shapes and forms, Dean Winchester. And every single one of them resides in you. You're not good for Lisa because you will corrupt her. Just like you corrupted Castiel Novak and every other person who made the mistake of getting close to you. I'm sorry to have to say this, but you're poison, Dean. You barrel your way into people's lives and expect them to pick themselves up after you've gone. And you spend too much time feeling sorry for yourself to notice the damage you've done. I told you not even two weeks ago that your love destroys. That point still stands. So do yourself a favour and stay away from Lisa, before you destroy her as well. Actually, better yet, just stay away from everybody." 

After that, she bid him goodnight and stalked away, leaving him in the cold dead of night as a single tear streaked down his cheek.

 

Dean went inside at midnight. He wandered through small clusters of people until he found himself in a bathroom, where a guy he didn't recognise was laying out a suspicious-looking white-powder-filled bag on the counter. He looked up when Dean entered and his eyes widened with panic.

"Hey...hey, man, I was just...I wasn't-"

"It's okay," Dean cut him off in an empty voice. "I won't tell anyone."

The guy sagged with relief. Then he perked up straighter again when an idea seemed to cross his mind.

"Hey...do you want some? It's pretty fucking pathetic having to take it when you're alone."

Dean considered this. His last - and only - encounter with cocaine had, admittedly, not been that pleasant. Well, the high had been pretty cool, but the coming down part was not so cool. And, in all honesty, he didn't want to become just another drug addict. But, just like his last reason for taking it, he wanted the sadness to go away, if only for a little while.

"All right," he said. The guy beamed.

"That's amazing, man. Fantastic. This is awesome."

 

Dean was leaning over the counter, watery-eyed, sniffing and staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The guy had run off somewhere, and he was alone. It was almost exactly like the last time. He was on his own, in a bathroom, coming down from a high that he promised himself that he would never have again.

Right at that moment, Gordon Walker decided to barge in.

He stopped when he saw Dean, and his eyes drifted down to the remnants of the powder on the counter. He looked back up, putting two-and-two together, and smiled, a pure, malicious smile that shook Dean's bones.

"Decided to become a druggie, now, have we, Winchester?" he asked. "Wasn't your last experience with drugs enough? You know, how you almost died, and so on?"

Dean curled his fists on the counter. "Get fucked, Walker."

Like an idiot, Gordon laughed.

"I wonder what your boyfriend will have to say when he finds out."

That was the last straw. Something inside Dean snapped, and he spun around and punched Gordon in the nose. Gordon's head fell back, hitting the wall, but he wasn't stunned for long. He hissed through clenched teeth and threw Dean back into a cubicle. Dean felt a sickening crunch as the side of his brow made contact with something hard, but he sprang back and grabbed the front of Gordon's clothes, shoving him against the counter. He punched him in the face twice, before Gordon kicked out, sending Dean sprawling on the ground. He got back up and they eyed each other, blood pouring down both of their faces.  
At that moment, the door flung open and a voice said,

"What the hell is going on in here?"

The two of them turned to find a crowd of people craning in the doorway, gasping and muttering. Benny was in the front.

"Dean?" he asked, astonished. "What are you doing?"

"Did someone say Dean? Is Dean in there?" an all-too-familiar voice said from the back. Dean's heart sunk into his shoes as Cas pushed through people until he had made it through the doorway. His disbelieving eyes took in the scene before him - Dean, blood spilling from the open gash in his brow, Gordon, his nose pointing at an odd angle with blood smeared underneath it, and, finally, the powder on the counter. His gaze returned to Dean, expression so thunderous that he had to look away.

Not many times had Dean seen Cas angry, but when he was, it wasn't something anybody wanted to cross paths with.

Cas' voice exploded with hurt. "When will you realise that you are not ALONE?!" he yelled, seemingly not caring that everybody was witnessing this. 

Dean backed into the wall.

"Can't you see? I'm poison, Cas!" he replied, his voice on the verge of breaking.

The stormy expression left Cas' face, replaced by a quiet, powerful force that was somehow worse.

"Who the hell told you that?" he asked in a deadly voice.

"I-I didn't need to be told. You need to stay away from me. You have a whole, beautiful future ahead of you, so please, please don't let anybody hold you back. Especially someone like me."

He pushed past him, past everybody, and left to clean himself up.


	11. Tutoring

The seniors were sent home early.

Surprisingly, it wasn't for the drugs. Gabriel had taken the remainder of the cocaine and buried it deep in the grounds of the manor, forcing everybody to swear on pain of death that they wouldn't own up to who had the drugs. The seniors of Lawrence High were many things, but one thing they definitely were not, were snitches.

They'd actually sent home for the damage they'd done to the place in their partying. Evidently, people were too drunk to notice that they'd practically trashed the place, and the authorities weren't happy. 

The coach ride home was unbearable. Dean sat on his own by the window, while Cas sat with Gabriel several seats behind him. Cas hadn't tried to say anything, only looked at him with such sad eyes that Dean had to turn away. He hated himself so much that it was only rivalled by how much he'd been revolted with himself in those terrible days in St Martin's.  
Once the coach stopped at the school, Dean Immediately sprang out of his seat, picked up his back, made his way off the coach and walked the long way back to his house.

 

As soon as he was through the door, John was on him, yelling at him for destroying ancient, historical property, being too drunk to even notice and partying with beer and 'God knows what' when he wasn't even out of high school.

Dean stood there and took it. John didn't know the half of it.

"Dean, are you even listening to me?" John barked impatiently.

"No."

John snarled and crossed the room to open the fridge and get a fresh beer bottle.

"Get out of my sight," he said, popping open the bottle. Dean shook his head disgustedly.

"You act all self-righteous, yelling at me for drinking to drown my sorrows, but you're just a fucking hypocrite."

"I said get out of my sight."

"Gladly."

Dean dropped his bag on the floor and turned to leave, slamming the door behind him.

 

At school, Dean and Gordon Walker were pulled out of classes to be chewed out by Miss Masters. They sat at desks in her classroom, while she leaned against the wall, eyes flashing, arms crossed tightly.

"I assume you know why I've brought you both here," she said icily. They murmured their affirmative.

"You've disgraced the school with your petty argument, whatever it was. By all means, beat each other to a pulp to your hearts' content when you're away from the school, but while you're in school or on a school trip, you keep your hands to yourselves. You at least try to act like civilised human beings. You two did not do that. You acted like a pair of chimpanzees and brawled. It is disgusting."

She turned to Gordon. "You've got a month's detention, Walker. My class after school every day for an hour. You can go now."

Gordon looked at her imploringly. "But, Miss, I've got football practise after school!"

"Does it look like I care, Walker?"

Gordon pushed himself away from the desk, muttering profanities to himself and kicked the door open to leave. Once he was gone, Miss Masters turned to Dean. He leaned away unconsciously from her gaze.

"This has got to stop, Winchester."

Dean swallowed. "I...I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do. I know and I appreciate that you haven't had the best of times, but we can't have somebody in this school who skips half the time, gets into fights and doesn't even try to do well in classes."

"But-"

"Don't try to argue. This is the tenth time I've spoken to you in a month. You're not even here most of the time, with the rate that you cut class. We cannot keep you here if this continues."

"What - what are you saying?" Dean asked, his voice very small.

"If you're grades haven't risen significantly by the end of January, we're going to have to let you go."

It was as if a train had steamrollered into Dean's chest.

"I have discussed this with the principal, and he agrees. We want no more fights, no more cutting school and better grades. Otherwise, we'll be expelling you."

With that, she pushed off from the wall, gave him one last sympathetic look, and left the room.

For a while, Dean sat there, stunned into utter silence.

Then he pushed out from his desk and threw the chair across the room. He pushed desks over. He marched up to the teacher's desk and shoved the files and papers onto the floor. He took a glass decoration and shattered it against the wall. At that point, the door opened and Cas entered, saying,

"I passed Gordon and he said I'd find you here. I-" he broke off when he saw the state the room was in, and Dean in the middle of it, chest heaving, eyes glistening.

"Dean..." he said, and then Dean broke into sobs. Without a word, Cas crossed the room and wrapped his arms around him. Dean buried his head in his shoulder, his sobs and tears racking his body. His shoulders trembled as he cried.

"It's okay," Cas said softly. "It's okay."

 

Once Dean had finally calmed down, Cas helped him tidy up the classroom, and then they sat together against the wall. 

"Do you want to tell me what happened?" Cas asked tentatively. Dean inhaled unsteadily, then he told him.

"They're saying that if my grades haven't risen significantly by January, they're expelling me. I'm not allowed to cut any more school or get into any more fights. That's two months, Cas. Two months to clean up my act. It can't be done. It's hopeless. I'm not smart. I won't be able to raise my grades."

Cas turned so that he was looking directly into his face, his eyes sharp.

"Don't you ever say that, Dean Winchester. Don't you ever say that you're not smart. You are one of the smartest people I have ever met, you just don't know what to do with it. I say you will be able to do this."

Dean looked as though he was about to cry again. "I need help, Cas."

"Then I'll help you. I'll tutor you. I'll get you through this if it's the last goddamned thing that I do."

Dean sat there, gaping at him, before wrapping his arms tightly back around Castiel's shoulders and holding on tightly.

"Thank you, Cas. Thank you so fucking much."

 

Cas got a lift home in Gabriel's car when school was over. He was dreading the ride home, as he'd have to face Zachariah, Michael and Uriel. The same people who, not too long ago, he'd discovered were criminals.

"You're unusually quiet," Gabriel said from the driver's seat. Balthazar and Anna were sitting in the back. 

"Unusually quiet?" Anna piped up, scoffing. "What are you on about, 'unusually quiet'? Castiel's always quiet."

"Yes, and it's part of his charm," Gabriel retorted.

"Charm?" Balthazar cut in. "I think you'll find I'm the only one here with charm."

"Uh, excuse me, but I am plentiful in charm, thank you very much," Gabriel replied.

"You? Charm? Sure," Balthazar said, laughing. "If the definition of 'charm' is the same as the definition of 'irritating'."

"Both of you are about as charming as toads," said Anna. "And that is an insult to the toads."

Castiel leaned back an closed his eyes, blocking out their bickering. He thought about how Dean had sobbed in his arms earlier that day. If anybody was going to understand Cas' torn feelings toward his family, it would be him. He didn't know why he still hadn't told Dean. He supposed it was because if he voiced what it was, then it would become all too real. 

His mind drifted, and he found himself thinking about how Dean had kissed him in the game of spin the bottle. It was stupid that he was overthinking it so much, but he couldn't help it. Aside from that kiss, Cas had only ever been kissed once and it had been two years ago. Dean had taken him to a party. His first one. A girl had been there - he couldn't even remember her name now - and she'd kept shooting him shy smiles, so Dean had introduced them and, one thing led to another, and she'd kissed him. He hadn't kissed back; mostly because he didn't know how. It hadn't lasted very long, and she'd pulled back, looking disappointed.

That was nothing compared to Dean's kiss. It had been as if a thousand butterflies had been let loose throughout his body, and his lips had tingled for so long afterwards. He couldn't make sense of it. How could a boy's kiss have affected him more than a girl's kiss had? Cas had always assumed he liked girls. Hardly ever even questioned it. But now, he was rethinking his whole life. He remembered how, from an early age, he'd always looked at Dean more than he looked at any girl. But Dean was beautiful. His green eyes were like none other in the world, his features were delicate and his hair somewhere between brown and blonde. That didn't necessarily mean that Cas was in love with him. It just meant that he appreciated Dean's beauty. A lot of people did. It was widely accepted that Dean was attractive.

But more than that, Dean had a brighter light than anyone else. He often didn't see it himself; he considered himself to be shrouded in darkness. Cas saw it, though. He saw it in the way Dean's eyes shone whenever he talked about something he was really passionate about, or whenever he laughed his real, full-body laugh. He saw it when Dean cruised in his car, wind whipping through his hair, and when his mouth tilted up at the corner when he found something mildly amusing.

None of it mattered anyway, because Dean liked girls without a shadow of a doubt. That much was true. It was evident from the way he'd kissed Lisa Braeden. He hadn't kissed Cas like that. He'd kissed her like he was opening her, unfolding her pages and reading her story. It had been a kiss of passion and desperation. His and Cas' kiss had been short. Sweet. It had reminded Cas of bittersweet memories and tender thoughts. 

He was broken out of his thoughts when the car pulled up beside their house and his other siblings clambered out.

With a heavy heart and heavier legs, Cas got out of the car and made it up to the driveway.

Michael opened the door before they'd even rung the doorbell.

"You're late," he said, by way of greeting.

"Sorry, bro. Traffic was bad," replied Gabriel. Michael sniffed.

"Get inside," Michael said suspiciously. Once they were inside, Michael closed the door shut and and turned to face them all in the hallway.

"Have you all been keeping up on your bible studies?"

"Yes,' they lied in unison.

"Was there any alcohol consumption?"

"No," came another chorus of untruths.

"Balth and I had this exact same interrogation on Saturday," Anna hissed to Cas. He couldn't help but feel his mouth twitch slightly.

"Have you been keeping your grades up while we were gone?"

"Yes."

"Any complaints from the school?"

"No."

Michael sniffed again. Cas wondered if he had something stuck in his nose.

"Go up to your bedrooms, then. Zachariah, Uriel and I are not to be disturbed."

"Yes, sir."

As they all climbed upstairs, Gabriel mimed throwing up.

"Jesus Christ," he whispered. "You'd think this was a military camp, the way he gets us to answer his every question like that. 'Yes, sir', 'no, sir'. I may actually puke."

"Just don't get any of it on me," was Anna's reply.

 

For the next week, Cas began tutoring Dean. He wasn't able to sneak out, so they had to do it a lunchtimes, breaks and free periods.

"...and then all you do is subtract the product of fifty-four and twenty-six and you get the answer," Cas finished.

Dean put his head in his hands. "I don't get it," he whined. "What in the name of frick frack does 'product' mean?"

"It means the two numbers multiplied together," Cas replied patiently.

"But what is it, then? What's the answer?"

"You can do long multiplication."

"Its too early for long multiplication!"

Cas checked his watch. "It's almost the end of school, Dean. Not exactly early."

"Any time is too early for math."

Cas considered him for a moment.

"Fine," he said, beginning to pack up his stuff. Dean took a second to figure out what he was doing.

"Wait - what?" his eyes were wide. "It's over?"

"We've been at it for over an hour and you're not concentrating anymore. So, yes, we're done for today."

A huge smile spread across Dean's face.

"Do you want to do something amazing, then?" he asked. Cas shook his head regretfully.

"I can't. Zachariah is expecting me home at four o' clock."

"Ah, come on, Cas. Just twenty minutes. That's all I need."

"Well...all right then. What it it?"

"You'll see," said Dean, grinning in a way that promised certain trouble.

Cas had a bad feeling about this.


	12. Group Sharing

Once the school bell rang to signal the end of the day, Dean and Cas made their way outside. Sam was going to Jess' house, so Dean didn't have to worry about telling him he'd be late home. Cas told Gabriel not to wait up for him, then they climbed into the Impala.

"Can I ask where we're going?" Cas asked.

"Nope," Dean replied. He grinned to himself. Cas was going to love this.

They drove for five minutes until Dean stopped off beside a grassy pathway that led up the side of a hill. He got out, excitedly urging Cas to follow him. They made their way up the hill, Dean in front and Cas slightly behind.

"I hope you're not taking me up here because you need a place to dump my body," Cas said. Dean stopped in the middle of the path and slowly turned around, eyes incredulous.

"Cas, did...did you just make a joke?" he asked in a strangled, disbelieving voice. Cas looked surprised with himself.

"Well, yes, I - I suppose I did."

Dean threw his head back and roared a laugh, bending over backwards and clapping. The wind carried the sound of his laughter all the way down the road and through the air. "You're all grown up!" he said, before straightening to find Cas staring at him intensely, his sombre eyes filled with wonder.

"What?" he asked him. Cas shrugged.

"Nothing, it's just...I've missed that. I...I like your laugh when it's like that. Not that I don't always like your laugh. But I like it best like that." He cut himself off and clamped his lips shut, looking bashful.

Dean coughed.

"Well...we should keep going. We're almost there."

They continued in silence for a couple more minutes until they reached the top. Dean turned back to Castiel, smiling self-satisfiedly, but Cas was glancing around, somewhat confused.

"I don't understand what I'm supposed to be looking at," he confessed. Dean rolled his eyes, grabbed Cas' shoulders and guided him to the edge, where the hill overlooked the town.

Cas gasped.

The hill didn't just overlook the town. It showed everything. The bustling traffic jams, the smiling couples gliding along the pavement, the children with lollipops on the swings yelling for their parents to go 'higher, higher!' There were alleyways where suspicious money was being exchanged. There were excited dogs in parks, chasing tennis balls. There were groups of girls and boys, out shopping or hanging around on fences. There was a whole world, and it was right beneath them. 

Dean watched as Cas studied the busy world below, his face filled with that same awe that he had looked at Dean with. That was one of the main things that had drawn Dean to Cas; the way he found everything beautiful and inspiring, even a broken, scared little boy wearing his dad's old leather jacket.

"I, uh, found this place when you and I were...you know...after you...last Christmas..." Dean cleared his throat, leaving the sentence open. Cas knew what he was talking about.

Then Cas turned to him, eyes suddenly full of a turmoil that took Dean aback.

"I want to say again how sorry I am for putting you through-"

"Shut up," Dean cut him off. "Shut the fuck up. I don't want anymore fucking apologies from you, okay? Do you hear me?"  
Cas swallowed and nodded.

As they silently observed each other, Dean realised that he knew what they were both thinking about.

The kiss.

Dean had forced himself not to let his mind wander to it, because, after all, it had been a stupid game of spin the bottle. But, godammit, he was confused as hell, because he was straight. He had always been straight. So why was he spending more time thinking about his kiss with Cas than his kiss with Lisa?

Cas broke out of his daydreams and his eyes flashed with resolve.

"I need to tell you something," he admitted.

"What is it?" Dean asked, puzzled. Cas closed his eyes, as if trying to keep back tears.

"Before the trip, I was on Michael's computer. I was only planning on doing homework. But I saw a file, entitled 'Luke Novak and I clicked on it," he opened his eyes and looked up at Dean guiltily. "I didn't want to invade Michael's privacy, but I had to know why he kept a document about Luke. So, after I clicked on it, I found something horrible, Dean."

"Go on?"

"M-Michael, Zachariah and Uriel have been keeping tabs on Luke throughout the thirteen years he's been gone. They know where he is. That's withholding information from the police. But, that's not all. They've been helping him cover his tracks, Dean. They've kept records of his past crimes, and they've helped to cover them up. Dean, the crimes he's committed...they're awful..." At that point, he trailed away, a wild desperation shaking him. 

Dean didn't know what to say.

"Jesus, Cas...that's...that's - I don't even know what to say. That's awful."

Cas shook his head, and an unexpected small smile appeared on his face. "Have you ever wondered why we're all named after angels except for Luke?" he questioned.

"I, well, uh, sometimes...yeah, I guess-"

"It's because his real name is Lucifer. Ironic, isn't it?" Cas' voice took on a slightly hysterical note. "That the one brother in the family who has raped and murdered innocents is the one named after the angel that fell from Heaven. It's as if our whole life in one big cosmic joke, and someone out there is laughing at us. Maybe fate is real after all, and our free will is an illusion created by the minds of the wishful thinkers. Maybe, just maybe, freedom is a length of rope and God wants you to hang yourself with it. Maybe-"

"Cas!" Dean cut him off before his tangent grew any more alarming. "Man. You're scaring me. Calm down-"

"Calm down?!" Cas said, incredulously. "Calm down? I'm cool as a fucking cucumber."

That caught Dean off-guard. Cas never swore. Not ever.

He didn't know what to do. He wasn't good at comforting people, and that made him really fricken guilty because Cas always comforted him.

"Cas...Cas, it's all right. God, we've gotta get you away from that family."

Cas shook his head; "I can't leave. Not with Gabriel, Anna and Balthazar still there."

"We'll find a way to get you all away from them.

Cas' eyes bore into his own, his helplessness making Dean ache.

"Where would we go, Dean? We've got nowhere else to go."

 

Some weeks, Dr Naomi was the regular old bitch that Dean could deal with, asking invasive questions and generally being self-righteous, but holding back and respecting his space. However, other weeks, she was completely unbearable - constantly beating Dean down with relentless question after inappropriate question, attempting to reach inside him to take what was left of his empty heart and destroy it with her manicured fingers.

This was one of those weeks.

Dean put his head in his hands as her shots continued to be fired.

"Dean, look at me when I'm talking to you."

He sat up, glaring at her.

"I asked you if your grades are showing any signs of improving," she said impatiently.

"I got a tutor, so, yes, they'll probably improve. Satisfied?" he answered, equally impatient. He peaked her interest.

"What tutor?"

Oops. He shouldn't have said that. She'd never approve of him fixing things with Cas.

"Uh...just a teacher," he stuttered, causing her eyes to narrow.

"Why do you continue to lie to me, Dean?"

"I'm not lying."

"I think you are," she contradicted.

He clenched his fists.

"Fine. You want the truth?"

"Yes."

"It's Castiel Novak," he stated, content when he saw her mouth twitch and her eyes bulge.

"You...you mended ties with Castiel? Do you completely disregard everything I tell you?"

"Mostly, yes." He couldn't help it. Today she was pressing him to the end of his tether, so he had decided to press back.  
"Can I ask why you think this was a good idea? Is it because of your already established deep-seated problem with authority? Or, perhaps, because you enjoy hurting yourself, which suggests elements of masochism."

Dean sprang up, anger shooting up from his core and through his body, spilling out of his mouth in the form of word-vomit.  
"Can you stop, please? Stop right now. I'm not an object for you to study. I'm not an enigma, or a puzzle for you to solve or to cure or 'fix' or some shit. I'm just a kid with daddy issues who became such a loser that not even the loser table would take him. It's as simple as that. No equations, no statistics, no fucking masochism. I am just one in a long line of kids that fought the world and lost. So we might as well just give up now."

He finished, breathing heavily, and expected a long tirade of lecture or some complicated mind-fuckery, but all she did was narrow her eyes again, bend down and scribble non-stop on her clipboard for about seven minutes. Dean sat there, twiddling his thumbs, until, finally, she looked up and addressed him.

"This isn't working," she said simply.

"What...you mean the therapy? You're stopping the therapy?"

She sniffed. "Not exactly. But one-to-one counselling isn't working out for you. You do not enjoy intimacy, which makes this extremely difficult. Instead of counselling, I'm signing you up for group therapy every Monday. Starting tomorrow."

Group therapy. The words made Dean's skin crawl.

"A room where people sit in a big circle and share sappy marshmallow stories about how much they believe in themselves? No thanks. I'd rather this than the freaking happy clan," he said, disgusted. Dr Naomi, though, shook her head slowly.

"I've been considering this for a long time, and my decision is final."

"I miss Dr Garth," Dean grumbled.

"Yeah, well I miss being the executive of a successful law firm. We can't always get what we want," came Dr Naomi's cold reply.

Mr Fizzles would understand, Dean thought sourly.

 

As it was, group therapy began the next day at half-past four. Dean entered (making sure he was at least five minutes late), kicked the door open, chucked his bag on the ground and took the last remaining seat in the circle, all the while staring moodily at the floor.

"Ah, you must be our newest arrival, Mr Winchester," a female voice spoke from somewhere to his right. He glanced briefly up to see a woman maybe in her forties with long, brunette hair and a kind yet business-like smile. "I'm Ellen," she said. He went back to looking at the floor.

Ellen clapped her hands together. "Well, with that pleasant introduction out of the way, let's begin with some sharing about what we did this week. Hm, Charlie, how about you start?"

"All right, Ellen!"

Wait. Dean recognised that chirpy voice. Incredulously, he raised his head to find Charlie, the red-headed girl from the parties, sitting on the other side of the circle, smirking at him as he realised who she was. Out of all the happy-slappy weirdo groups in all the world, he had ended up in the one with the cool chick from Gabe's party. He reminded himself that she mentioned in passing having a girlfriend when they first met, so anything else was out of the question - not that Dean cared. She was more lovable in a 'little sister he never wanted' kind of way.

In all honesty, he didn't have any girls on his mind at the moment, which was really, really freaky, because there was definitely a boy on his mind.

"I had a pretty great week, actually," she continued. "I hacked into the Secret Service last Wednesday. It was pretty fun."

"Now, Charlie," Ellen scolded. "That is exactly the kind of thing we wanted you to stop doing, remember?"

"But I get bored otherwise. Parties are shit nowadays and they're the only alternative."

"No swearing in this room," said Ellen sharply.

"Sorry," replied Charlie, although she didn't look in the least bit sorry.

Ellen slapped her hands on her thighs. "I think that's enough of that. Let's move on. Last week, we were talking about different ways to take our mind off our problems. We're going to build on that today and begin discussing escapism. We're going to go around the circle and each of you are going to tell me what your escapes are. What things take your minds off the things that we concerning you."

Shit, Dean thought, panicking as the first person started talking about reading or something. Dean didn't know what his escapes were. He guessed the things that used to take his mind off the darkness were mostly alcohol and the occasional drugs, but over the past few weeks, a more prominent escape had taken their place, in the form of eyes like the ocean and ruffled black hair.

Dean back-pedalled. Had he really just described Cas' eyes as 'being like the ocean'? How pathetic.

That was when he knew he was done for. You don't just go around compairing your platonic friend's eyes to the sea. Dean had never spouted poetic in his life. Not even about Lisa Braeden.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit and shit.

Before he was done having a mental freak-out, the circle had gotten around to him, and he sat there like a dumbass while they all stared at him, some giggling quietly.

"Uh...I think...my escape is...my car. Yeah, my car." Jesus fucking CHRIST.

"Would you care to expand on that, Dean?" Ellen asked.

"I, uh, like to drive around it with the windows down with my brother, Sammy, and my...f-friend. It's, uh, really relaxing. Yeah."

"Oh, that's good. I do enjoy a good car ride, myself," Ellen mused, and then moved on to the next person. Dean sagged with relief and caught eye contact with Charlie, whose mouth was twitched up at the corner. Laughing at him.  
Before he could stop himself, he was grinning too, and then they were both laughing their heads off while the whole group stared at them. It was a good feeling.

 

It was a short way back to the apartment, so Dean had walked there and was walking back. He jangled his keys in his jacket pocket as he tried not to think about Cas and failed.

Dean had always been pretty sure he liked girls, but looking back, he noticed how, sometimes, from a young age, he and Cas would look at each other a second too long, or watch each other out of the corner of their eyes. He remembered when Cas first got his trench coat and mentally remarking just how good it looked on him.

Yes, their entire history was pretty much a clusterfuck. Cas, no matter how noble his intentions, had scarred Dean for life last year when he'd trodden on his weak heart. And Dean...oh, how different Cas would be if he'd never met Dean. For one, he wouldn't have been sucked into the utter whirlpool of misery that was Dean. He would have lived his life up to this point as a healthy, happy, slightly awkward kid with good grades and probably a girlfriend. He would be normal. He would-

Dean's morbid thoughts were cut off by a sudden blow to his head, causing the other side to hit the wall of a building. He saw spots and stars in front of his vision when he was thrown on the ground, and a pair of muddy grey eyes and a mess of blonde hair swam into view above him, a taunting leer twisting the lips of the face.

"Remember me?" A cold, deadly, teasing voice said.

Alastair.


	13. Breathe Into Me

Hissing from pain, Dean struggled to stand as be blinked up at Alastair. "Can't...say it's...good to see you again," he gasped as he straightened. Alastair, stood a mere few feet away, laughed coldly.

"Well, I see you haven't lost your sense of humour. Now, out with the pleasantries," he stepped forwards and shoved Dean against the hard brick wall, causing him to choke. "I ain't fucking around, Deanie. It's an understatement to say I'm pissed. It took a week to get me out of hospital and another three for me to be able to show my pretty face in public again. Here's the thing, though. I asked around a little. Turns out the guy that messed me up was none other than Castiel Novak. Word on the street is he's in love with you and you two are best buddies once again."

Dean tried to growl menacingly, but it came out as a weak-ass, pathetic whimper that made Alastair chuckle deep-throatedly.  
"But you know what this gives me, Dean?" he asked, continuing when Dean didn't answer. "Leverage. It gives me leverage. I know how to hit one of you where it hurts. Imagine how heartbroken poor little Novak will be when the object of his affections is 'accidentally' crushed under an oncoming bus? Or, perhaps, vice versa?"

"If you...lay one finger on him..." Dean grunted. "I swear I'll-"

"Oh, no use making threats now, Winchester. The deal's sealed. This whole thing is a game of chess, and you're my pawn." He paused, considering thoughtfully. "Hey, do you know who'd appreciate a little visit from me? Your adorable brother Sammy-" he never finished that threat, because at that moment Dean roared and pushed him off, sending him flying to the hard ground.

"If you touch a hair on Sam's head, I promise that you will never live to see the light of day," he growled, leaning over him. He watched Alastair's eyes flash dangerously and he pushed back up, shoving Dean into the wall once again as he stood.

"Enough games," he snapped, brushing himself off and running a hand through his hair. "I actually came here to deliver a message. Luke Novak says hi. And he wants you to tell his beautiful, blue-eyed, adoptive brother that he's watching. He's always watching."

 

Dean was sitting inside the cafeteria before school started, avoiding the rain outside and drinking a coffee to wake himself up. He hadn't had a very good nights sleep; he'd been tossing and turning for hours, tumultuous thoughts bouncing around his throbbing head. When he had finally fallen asleep, it had been full of fitful, vivid dreams that were, surprisingly, about his mother. He'd dreamed about before he could even walk, when she rocked him in her arms, blonde hair cascading around her, softly singing 'Hey Jude' until he stopped crying, before lowering him into his cradle.

He'd woken up tear-stained at six in the morning.

Now he sat alone at a table, sipping hot coffee that burned his tongue and trying unsuccessfully to do extra math homework, while Sam sat on the other side of the room, chattering animatedly with his friends.

His eyes went to the door as it swung open and he choked out his coffee, spitting the burning liquid all down himself.

Dammit. God-fucking-dammit. Cas had just walked in, dripping wet from the rain. His soaked clothes stuck to his body, and his hair was plastered onto his head, drops occasionally sliding down individual strands.

In other words: Cas looked really freaking sexy, and Dean was really freaking angry about it.

He hadn't had sex in a long time.

Dean watched Cas' eyes widen as he noticed him and his mouth form a perfect 'O' shape. Of course. Dean probably looked like a fool, boiling liquid all down his chin and on his clothes.

Now was SO not the time for Dean to be getting all sexually-frustrated, when there were certainly more pressing issues he could be focusing on.

A slightly frowning Cas made his way towards him, mouth pinched with concern.

"Dean...are...are you quite all right?" he asked, sitting down. Dean hastily wiped at the spilt coffee.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm, uh, doing this math homework and one question was, like, really fucking hard, so I jumped at the difficulty of it, and, next thing you know, there's coffee all over me." Dean internally groaned. Worst. Excuse. Ever. Cas' eyebrows knitted together, like he was trying to work out a hard equation.

"All right," he said. It just so happened that working-out-a-hard-equation face was very, very cute.

Dean shook himself. He probably just needed to jerk off or something, being a hormonal teenage boy that hadn't had the sexy times in ages. He was getting horny off of anything. That was the problem.

He focused himself on the matter at hand.

"Cas, we got a problem," he said in a low voice, leaning forward. Cas followed his lead, leaning forward too so that their heads were inches apart.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he quizzed in a hushed voice.

"I ran into Alastair the other day. Or, rather, he ran into me. By shoving me against a wall."

Cas sucked in a sharp breath.

"But that's not important. Anyway, he said something really kinda worrying."

"What?" Cas pressed impatiently.

"You're not gonna like this. He mentioned Luke, your brother, and how he's...watching us."

Panic flooded Cas' face. "No...no this isn't good. There's only one reason Luke would decided to reveal himself to us now, of all times."

"Why?"

"He knows. He knows I found the file on Michael's computer. Which means Michael, Zachariah and Uriel know as well."

Shit. Dean rubbed his hands over his face. "This is way too fucked up, man. We have to do something about it."

"Dean, Luke has people everywhere. He's built up a whole network of loyalty. It's full of criminals. Do you know what Luke calls the network? He calls it The Pit. As in, Hell's Pit. His name is Lucifer and he named his network of people The Pit. This is...terrifying."

"What do we do?"

"I don't know. God is gone and all that's left is the Devil. And he's coming after us in the form of my adoptive brother."

 

After Dean and Cas' lunchtime tutoring session, Gabriel came to meet them, grinning like nobody's business. Dean felt his heart sink when he realised they'd have to tell Gabriel and the others just how awful their family were. It would wipe the smile right of Gabe's face, and Dean couldn't bear that.

"You two look like you've both swallowed a lemon. What's with the sour faces?" he asked, oblivious.

"Nothing, Gabriel," sighed Cas.

Gabriel merged himself between the two of them and put his arms around them.

"You two. Y'know what you two are?"

"What are we, Gabe?" said Dean, rolling his eyes.

"Well, first off, you're fucking in love, and the sooner you realise that, the better."

They both squirmed.

"But secondly, you're both my posse."

Dean spluttered out an incredulous laugh. "Gabriel, did you really just use the word 'posse'? Yeah. Never do that again."

Gabriel looked affronted. "Excuse me, Mr Judgmental. I am trying to have a heart-warming moment with you. You're ruining my bro bonding."

"Bro bonding? Man, this is getting worse and worse by the second," Dean said.

"Fine, fine. Don't listen to my heartfelt speech." Gabriel let go of them, muttering about 'ungrateful friends'. Dean spotted Jo, Pam, Chuck and Benny as they made their way over.

"Hey, you three!" Jo greeted them.

"How's it going, handsome?" Pam said to Cas, winking, making him blush. They all laughed.

"We're heading to the park later today, if any of you want to join us," announced Benny in his drawling Louisiana accent.

"Sounds cool," said Dean.

"As long as I get to get Gabriel back for the rotten eggs," replied Jo. Gabriel heaved a sigh.

"Damn girl, you just can't let that go, can you?"

As they all burst into fits of laughter, Dean met Cas' eyes and, when they smiled at each other, he was able to pretend that all was right with the world.

 

When they emerged out of the building after school, Sam came rushing up to Dean, his cheeks flushed with happiness.

"Dean! Dean, guess what!" he said excitedly.

"What? What is it?"

"Jess kissed me! She actually kissed me. I was just talking to her at lunchtime when she leaned right over and kissed me on the mouth. In front of everyone. It was amazing." Sam was breathless.

"Right on, buddy! Gimme a high five, you player,' Dean said, and they high fived. He clapped Sam on the back.

Sam had just started a lengthy play-by-play recount of what had happened, when Dean felt a tug on his jacket. He turned to see Cas, who was staring fearfully at the edge of the parking lot.

Zachariah was standing there in a clean suit, hands in his pockets, watching them.

"Uh, Sammy, is it okay if you go over to Jess' for a while? I'm going to be a little late home."

"But, Dean!' Sam whined.

"Please, Sam. Get in Jess' brother's car and go to her house. Do not go to the apartment on your own." Sam must have detected the urgency in Dean's voice, because he slunk away.

Dean and Cas made their way side by side to where the motherfucker was leaning against the wall. He studied them, a taunting smile on his face.

"Hello, you two. How's about you follow me for a little chat?"

Zachariah took them down a deserted lane and into an alleyway. This was not good. This was so not good. If Dean's last experience with an alleyway was anything to go by, then this was the last place he wanted to be caught alone with Zachariah.

"I see you two have been getting cosy while I've been gone," he began, turning to look at them, one hand in his suit pocket and the other braced against the wall.

Neither of them answered.

"Let me tell you a story. So, I'm sitting alone in my office at home, fresh from my work trip, and I get a phone call. It seems the person on the other line is trying to tell me that the most angelic out of all my children has been on Michael's computer without consent, and found a file he shouldn't have. Care to explain what this is about."

Dean's muscles tensed, ready to spring forward, but Cas lay a hand on his arm, stopping him. This did not go unnoticed by Zachariah, who's gaze honed in on where Cas' hand was still on Dean.

"Do you remember what it says in the bible about homos, Castiel?"

"I believe the bible also states that you shouldn't rape and take innocent lives, but here you are. In fact, maybe we should just burn the bible and be done with it," Cas answered.

Zachariah backhanded him across the face. "How dare you," his voice shook with fury.

Dean shoved him up against the wall. "Don't you ever hit him again, do you understand?"

Zachariah pushed him away and dusted himself off, straightening to turn his white-hot glare to Dean.

"You are nothing but a filthy piece of bile on the ground, Dean Winchester. You have corrupted my family, filling Castiel's head with unholy, sinful nonsense. You are an abomination. You parade yourself around, draped in the flag of self-righteousness, yet all you have to be proud of his how you destroyed my perfect little boy and turned him into a satanic, disobedient wreck. I wrenched the two of you apart once; I will do it again."

He turned to Castiel. "My dear, sweet boy, you are not in trouble. We will welcome you home with open arms, just so long as you promise to leave this aberration who calls himself a human. If not...then, I'm afraid it's up to Luke to decide your fate."

And then he walked away. Just like that. No other words.

Dean sunk to the ground.

"You should probably go," he said, his voice alien.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Cas growled. Dean looked up at him.

"Don't be an idiot, Cas. You heard what he said. You either leave me or be forced to face Luke, who, from what I hear, is not the most forgiving of folk."

"No." Cas was shaking his head vehemently. "No. After everything, it cannot just come down to this again. Zachariah does not dictate our lives."

"Evidently he does."

"Shut up."

Dean stood up so that he was level with him, eyes blazing. "I told you before that I was poison and I was right. Look what just knowing me has done to you. This is your life we're talking about. Your real, living, breathing, human life. Are you really going to risk all that for one person? Me?"

"Yes,' Cas said.

And then he pushed Dean against the wall and kissed him.

It took a moment for the gears in Dean's brain to start again, but when they did, he yanked Cas away. Breathing heavily, he stared at him, wide-eyed. The emotion on Cas' face wasn't clear. He was confused. Wondering why Dean had pushed him away. Didn't he want this? Didn't he-

Dean pulled him back by his lapels and placed his mouth fiercely on Cas'.

Not much registered in Dean's mind, except for Cas' lips moving on top of his, and his hands in his wonderfully soft, dark hair, and Cas' trembling hands gripping his shoulders. This was very different to their last kiss. It was wild and desperate and both their bodies were shaking. Cas' hips were pressed into his, and a whole new type of energy exchanged between them. The sound of heavy breaths between kisses only fuelled it as they wound themselves around each other, not caring that passers by at the mouth of the alleyway could probably see them.

They'd set the world on fire.


	14. A Plan of Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was an emotional roller coaster for me to write.

When Dean awoke the next morning, he found himself lying sprawled on his stomach, a light puddle of drool beneath him. He heaved himself up, spitting pillow feathers out of his mouth and rubbing his eyes. Sam had left a cup of coffee beside his bed, and he gratefully picked it up, sipping while he remembered the events of yesterday.

So Luke was onto them and so was Zachariah, by the looks of it. Dean shook his head and sighed. He had to get Cas out of that goddamned house and into somewhere safer.

Then, of course, thinking about Cas caused Dean's mind to wander to the other thing that happened yesterday. To tell the truth, it had scared him. It had scared him...because he'd enjoyed it. In fact, he'd been desperate for it. And, if Cas wanted to kiss him again, he would almost definitely say yes.

And that fucking terrified him.

Frustratedly blowing out a gust of air, he rubbed a hand through his sleep-ruffled hair and swung his legs out of bed.  
Once he had shoved on some clothes, he trudged out of his room and banged on Sam's door.

"Oi, Sammy, get your ass outta there. We gotta get to school!"

There was no reply. Dean raised his eyes to the ceiling, muttering to himself. He pushed open the door.

"Sam, c'mon, you lazy douche. Get up-" he broke off when his eyes swept the room. The covers were strewn on the floor, the drawers pulled out and the contents spilled everywhere, and the clothes in the wardrobe had gone. 

Those weren't the only things missing, though. Sam was nowhere to be seen.

"No. No. Shit shit shit shit SHIT!"

Grabbing his keys, Dean barged out of the door and down the stairs. As he drove to school, weaving throughout beeping cars, he was pretty sure he broke the speed limit about twenty times. Not that he gave a shit. Not when Sam was gone.  
He pulled recklessly in front of several angry students into the parking lot and, in his rush, parked the car at an odd angle. Jumping out of his car, he thundered over to where Cas and his siblings were emerging from their own car. Cas noticed him and did a double take, startling when he saw Dean's expression. Dean took no notice of Gabriel, Anna and Balthazar staring at him with bewildered gazes and looked at Cas.

"They've got Sam," he told him, voice trembling. Cas' jaw dropped open.

"What? Does your dad know?"

"How the hell should I know? He went off to get pissed last night and didn't come back. He's probably passed out on a park bench three miles away. That's not important. What's important is that they freaking have Sam!"

"Woah, woah," said Gabriel, holding his hands up. "Back up one little minute. What are you guys on about? Where's Sam?"  
Dean looked helplessly at the confused faces of Cas' brothers and sister and felt the darkness laughing at him. Everything was falling apart. Sam had disappeared and now three kids were about to find out their family were monsters.

It seemed Luke was always one goddamn step ahead of them.

"It's okay," Cas said. "I'll tell them."

 

Half an hour later, Dean found himself and Cas recounting the past month, starting with Alastair's first attack in the alley. At one point, Jo, Chuck, Pam and Benny had joined them to listen to the story. Somewhere in the middle of their recount, Cas' hand had found its way to Dean's and linked their fingers. None of the others had questioned it.

Dean was astonished. Yesterday, it had been the two of them fighting a battle they had no hope of winning. Now, there were nine of them. Admittedly, they were a group of inexperienced teenagers that the police would never believe, but they had something.

When they'd finished their story, the others sat their in stunned silence.

"I can't believe it. After all the time I spent worshipping those animals," Gabriel said viciously.

"But now the question is, where the hell do they have Sam?" Dean said. "Not in the Novak house - that's too obvious. Somewhere else. I swear, if they've hurt him..." he trailed away, letting them imagine the rest.

"We have to go to the police," piped up Chuck.

Jo gave him a scathing look. 

"Do you really think they'll believe a bunch of kids over wealthy, respectable, squeaky-clean, established men? Besides, they probably have half the police department and the FBI under their thumbs. I wouldn't be surprised."

"Yes, back to the subject of Sam," Dean interjected. "How do we find him?"

"Our best bet is to get into Michael's secure files," Anna mused. "After you found their document on Luke, he probably transferred all his incriminating documents to a coded, backed up area. Only problem is, we don't have a hacker with us."  
Suddenly, Dean remembered an offhand sentence uttered in group therapy, and it was as if a lightbulb had turned on above his head. He grinned from ear to ear, the sheer luck of the situation astounding him.

"But, Anna, we do have a hacker on hand," he said, still smiling triumphantly. "One who, apparently, hacks into the Secret Service for a weekend hobby."

"Really?" Cas frowned up at him, disbelieving. "Who?"

"Her name is Charlie Bradbury. And she's our fucking saviour."

 

They all drove down and piled into Dean's apartment, where they filed through a phone book. Eventually, they heard Benny's shout of victory.

"Here it is! I found it! Bradbury residence in Lawrence, Kansas. Address is right here."

"What are we waiting for, then?" said Balthazar. "Let's go."

They reached the house where the Bradbury's apparently lived and buzzed the doorbell. Strangely, a smiling nurse answered the door.

Dean cleared his throat. "Uh...is Charlie in?" he asked hesitantly. The nurse's smile deepened.

"Ah, are you some of her little friends?" she said in a patronising, soft voice, then leaned back and hollered deep-throatedly over her shoulder, "CHARLIE! YOUR BUDDIES ARE HERE TO SEE YOU!"

A startled Charlie appeared in the stairway, wearing Harry Potter style pyjamas and a befuddled expression. It deepened into even more confusion when she saw Dean and his entourage standing awkwardly in the porch.

"Uh, hi, Charlie. Can we talk to you for a sec?" he stuttered. She nodded slowly, crossing her arms self-consciously, realising she was in front of a group largely made up of boys, in pyjamas and with no bra on. As if sensing her discomfort, Jo said,  
"Oh, don't worry, it's all right. Most of them are gay."

That caused an uproar from the boys, but Jo only shrugged, as if to say, 'well, it's true!' Dean had to agree with her there.  
An out-of-place chuckle from the nurse caused Charlie to make her way down the stairs and out onto the porch.

"It's okay, Nurse Milligan. You can go back to Mom now," she said quietly. The door closed behind her with a soft click, and she turned to Dean.

"Dean, what on earth are you doing outside my house at ten in the morning? And how did you even find out where I live?" It was as if she was spitting fire. Dean felt Cas shift closer to him.

"I'm really sorry, Charlie, and I know I seem like a stalker right now, but I swear it's important. I remembered hearing about you being an expert hacker at therapy and we could really need you right now. Also, why are you not in school?" He added as an afterthought.  
Charlie blinked at him for several moments, and then sighed.

"I'm a delinquent, what do you expect?" she said, as though it was obvious. "Anyways, you'd better start from the beginning."

So he did, and found himself, for the second time that morning, recounting the most eventful month of his life. By the time the story was, again, over, they'd all sat down on the kerb of the sidewalk. 

Charlie looked as though she was about to make the worst decision of her life. She squeezed her eyes shut.

"All right, fine. I'll do it. But only because, a) there's a kid in danger and, b) you're staring at me with those pathetic puppy-dog eyes."

Dean could have hugged her. But he didn't.

"Also," she added. "This Luke Novak guy seems really kinda...insane. If I end up getting killed at this mission, I'm suing you. From beyond the grave."

 

Dean and Cas sat outside the Novak house, keeping watch as Charlie attempted the infiltrate the computer inside the house. By this time, the sun was beginning to set and Dean was exhausted.

"Sam's going to be okay, you know," said Cas. Dean turned to him, mouth twisting into a grateful half-smile.

"Thank you for saying that."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, before Dean noticed a strange, slightly guilty expression cross Cas' face.

"Hey, what's up?" he questioned. Cas looked up at him, somewhat shyly.

"Nothing, it's just...would it be terribly awful if I wanted to kiss you again?"

Despite everything, despite the darkness and the horribleness, Dean's smile stretched into a beam. His heart thudded as his eyes met Cas' dark ones.

"No, I don't think it would be very awful at all," he replied. Eyes lighting up, Cas tentatively leaned forward, and Dean closed the distance between their mouths. Cas tasted like cinnamon and memories. It was a sweet, heart-wrenching kiss that didn't last long enough before Cas pulled away. Making a noise of protest, Dean pulled him back by his lapel and opened the kiss again, sliding his tongue against Cas'. Cas jumped at that contact, but soon settled into it, smiling under Dean's lips.

The world had pretty much gone to shit, and both boys were broken beyond repair, but this was the kiss that began to stitch the wounds back together.


	15. The Devil Arrives

Dean and Cas were still caught in their kiss, oblivious to the world around them when an awkward clearing of a throat caused them to break apart in surprise.

Charlie was standing, shuffling her feet on the concrete behind them, seemingly wishing she was anywhere but there. Her face was practically magenta, and the two boys' faces slowly turned an equally dark shade of red.

"I...uh...I'm, uh sorry to interrupt-"

"No, don't worry about it-"

"It's fine-"

"Maybe I should come back-"

"No, it's FINE-"

"Honestly, just tell us what you found."

Charlie opened and closed her mouth several times, fiddling with the zipper on her hoodie with one hand. Finally, she held up the other hand and waved a piece of paper in the air.

"I, um, found where they've got Sam. I printed it out, you know, in case-"

"Really? That's amazing! Where is he?" Dean pressed immediately. Cas frowned and nudged him, admonishing him for interrupting her.

"He's in a warehouse not too far from here. You know that big old place that used to be a Blockbusters?"

Dean's eyes widened. "They freaking took my brother to an old ex DVD rental shop. That's really...it's like he's laughing at us"

"To be honest, he probably is," Cas said, a sad note to his voice. Ouch. Dean often forgot that Luke was Cas' adoptive family.

Charlie clapped her hands together and jumped up and down. "We'll we'd better get the others, then."

Dean looked at her, and at Cas, and thought of them and the others who were willing to go into the snake hole to help him. He had no idea how he had gone from being completely alone to having people ready to face down a criminal next to him, but he saw the determined resolution in Cas' eyes and he knew he wouldn't have to be lonely ever again.

At least, that's what he thought.

 

The ten of them stood in a line, facing the warehouse, while nobody said a word. Dean was very aware that they'd most likely been spotted, but, if he admitted, he wanted to be spotted. He wanted to feel the ecstasy of warping his hands around Luke Novak's throat. He startled himself slightly at the ferocity of his thoughts. This was Sam though. Sam, who had no part in this, who has done nothing wrong except be related to Dean.

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath. "Balthazar, Anna and Chuck, I want you guys to keep lookout here. Benny, Jo and Pam, you can go around the back and wait for us there. Meanwhile, me, Cas, Gabe and Charlie will be going in to find Sam. If we're more than half an hour, call the police. I guess we'll see you on the other side." He nodded at them all in a silent thanks and then turned to Cas, who's fists were curled at his sides. "You ready?" he asked him, and Cas, either like a hero or a fool, nodded. Maybe he was both.

The three of them walked towards the warehouse. Dean tested the door, and was surprised to find it was unlocked. Somebody definitely knew they were there, and were welcoming them.

"Dean," Cas said, before they stepped through. Dean looked behind quizzically. "Has it occurred to you yet that Sam was taken to draw us here?" Cas continued.

"As a matter of fact, it has. It's pretty much the only logical reason for why this happened."

"So why are we walking into what we know to be a trap?"

"Because it's Sam," Dean said simply. Then he stepped through the door.

The warehouse looked like what one would expect a warehouse to look. Long lines of shelves filled with cardboard boxes continued all the way to the end of the huge room. Dean didn't want to know what was inside those boxes.

They saw two doors at opposite ends of the room, and realised that they'd have to split up. Charlie turned to them, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Gabriel and I will go through the right door and try to find a computer so that I can download evidence to present to the police. You two go through the left door and try to find Sam," she said uneasily. 

It was too quiet. Almost silent.

Charlie and Gabriel began to make their way across the room to the right door, so Dean and Cas trudged over to the left door and opened it slowly. It led to a large, dark hallway that they couldn't see the end of. Then, the door swung shut behind them, causing Cas and Dean to jump nearer to each other, breathing heavily and squinting into the blackness.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure emerged at the other end of the hall. They couldn't see who it was, but then the lights flickered on , revealing a young man in his twenties with neat blond hair and a smile that whispered thoughts of knives and blood.

This could only be Lucifer Novak.

When he opened his mouth to speak, Dean expected him to say something threatening or ominous, however, the first words he uttered were,

"Of all the self-loathing, cock-sucking no lifers in the world, you just had to choose the one with pretty green eyes, didn't you, Cassie?" His mouth stretched as he walked towards them. "Because now you've gone and fallen in love with him, which makes my job all the harder."

"Where's Sam?" Dean demanded. Luke chuckled.

"Oh, I can assure you, your brother is perfectly fine. Why would I kill him when I have something over you, Dean Winchester? As long as I have dear little Sammy, you won't be harming a hair on my head. I enjoy insurance." He clapped his hands together. "Now then, shall we get back to business?"

They gave him blank looks, which made him sigh.

"Come on, it's no fun when you don't participate! At least look scared or scream or something. Anything?"

What the fuck kind of drugs was this guy on?

Without taking his eyes off them, Luke called over his shoulder,

"Restrain my brother."

Seemingly out of nowhere, two men appeared behind them and grabbed Cas' arms. Shocked, he struggled away from them but it was no use. Full of rage, Dean leapt forward, but felt himself pulled back and yanked into a room. Luke had him by the shoulders.

He looked at Cas trying desperately to get at him, helpless fear in his eyes.

"No! Dean!" he bellowed, his voice raw.

"Cas!" Dean yelled, but it was no use. The door slammed shut, disappearing Cas from his view and he banged on the door.

"Cas, no! Cas..." he broke away, leaning against the door. Luke was watching him, arms crossed and eyes glittering with amusement.

"Right, now we can get down to business," he announced, pulling up to chairs fro, against the wall and sitting down, inviting Dean to sit on the other. Slowly and warily, Dean lowered himself into the chair. He scooted it until he was a few feet away.

"Dean Winchester," Luke said. "I must say, it's strange to finally meet you face to face. No wonder Castiel is so infatuated. You are really quite interesting. Although remarkably annoying. You see, we have a conundrum here. I need Castiel to keep quiet about what he knows and, perhaps, possibly even help me, and he would be willing to do that. He really would. The only thing stopping him is you."

Dean blinked. "Me?"

"Yes. Can't you see that the boy adores you? I'd even go so far as to say he hero-worships you. No idea why. You're miserable, alcoholic and your future is doomed. I can secure Castiel's safety for the rest of his life, as long as he leaves you. You give him a wretched moral compass, and fill his head with false notions of heroism and love and freedom and a whole range of other puke-inducing ideas. You destroyed his loyalty to his family and made his world revolve around you. That was a very selfish thing to do. Why did you do it. Is it because you enjoyed the attention? Or maybe it's because you liked breaking him forever. The fact of the world is, everything's about power. And I have power. So much power that I could make sure your beautiful baby-blue-eyed boyfriend lives for a long, long time. However, as long as he poses a threat to me, he will need to be exterminated. He could end me with the information he has. So, I present you with a proposition. Convince my adoptive brother to listen to what I have to say, promise to sever all ties with him, and you can walk out of here with your brother safe and the assurance that Castiel is in good hands. Or, alternatively, try to stop me and go to the police. In which case, I will make your life a living hell. I will slowly torture everybody you love while you watch, and then I will torture you while Castiel watches. Then I will proceed to terrorise Lawrence and make sure the citizens know that it is your fault their families are being taken. I can make all this happen with almost a snap of my fingers. So, Dean Winchester, make your choice and make it quick."

With each word Luke had spoken, Dean's insides had hollowed out a little more. Bela Talbot had once told him that he and Cas would start a storm. He hadn't believed her. He should have. Oh, yes, he should have.

It all boiled down to this one fact: Dean wasn't good for people. From the moment he'd knocked over that bully all those years ago in Kindergarten, he had resigned Cas to a fate of sadness and pain. Destruction followed Dean wherever he went, and Lule knew that.

He'd thought the love he and Cas had was sweet and pure. But it was tainted. Tainted by Dean and his darkness.

If he agreed to Luke's terms, Cas would be safe. Lawrence would be safe. It meant that so many other people would get hurt, but the alternative was worse. The alternative was Hell itself.

With heavy eyes and a hollowed-out heart, he raised his head to look at Luke.

"All right. I'll do it. I agree."

 

Luke lead him down the now empty hallway and into another room. Sam was sitting at a table, legs drawn up underneath him and heavy bags under his eyes. As soon as he saw Dean, he sagged with relief and leapt off the chair he was sitting at, launching himself at his brother. Dean staggered back and put his arms around him.

"How incredibly touching," Luke said in a monotone voice, leaning against the doorframe.

"You promised to let us go," Dean said. Luke waved a hand in the air.

"Of course, of course. Follow me, then."

They went back the way they came and the door opened up back into the warehouse. Cas was standing, muscles taut, beside a shelf, two men flanking him. Gabriel and Charlie had been discovered, and they were being held back, imploring Dean with apologetic eyes. 

"Dean!" Cas said joyfully, trying to run to him but finding himself held back by the men.

"It's okay, let them go," Luke said. The men obeyed, setting Cas, Gabriel and Charlie free. Cas ran to Dean and embraced him, and Dean stiffened in his arms. Cas pulled back, confusion clouding his face.

"Off you pop, then," said Luke. Gabriel blinked several times.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said off you pop. You know. Vamoose. Skedaddle. Buzz off."

"You...you're letting us go? Just like that?" Charlie asked incredulously.

Luke looked at Dean, smiling privately. "Yes. Just like that."

 

Everybody had been completely bewildered by Luke allegedly just 'letting them go', but they'd all raced to get out of there as fast as they possibly could. They'd parted ways, while Dean dropped Sam off at home and then drove the Novak kids back to their house.

Anna, Balthazar and Gabriel all got out of the car and ran inside, whilst Cas stayed sitting beside Dean in the passenger seat.

He turned to Dean.

"What happened in the room back there-"

"This is the last time we'll be speaking," Dean interrupted. Cas stared at him.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"We won't be seeing each other again. At all." Dean forced his voice to stay cold and distant. Oh, the irony of it all. They always seemed to go around in circles, the two of them. It was always one of them pushing the other away to protect him.

"Dean, I don't understand." Cas' voice was full of confused hurt.

"Go back to living your life. Forget about all of this. Forget about me. It worked well enough for a year.

"Dean, I never forgot about you. Not once. You're not making sense." Cas sounded on the verge of tears. Dean gripped the steering wheel.

"Please, just leave. Don't make this harder than it is."

"What did Luke say to you?"

"He said enough." Dean closed his eyes. "Now please get out of my car."

He didn't open them until he heard the seatbelt click and the door open and close. He watched, breaking into a thousand splintered pieces, as the only boy he'd ever loved disappeared into the house.


	16. The Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the positive feedback, guys! You have no idea how much it means to me when you tell me how much you're enjoying it!

Dean sat in the driver's seat, watching students stroll by, chatting and bumping each other. He'd parked the car at school ten minutes ago, but still hadn't been able to bring himself to get out. Sam had long since left to speak to his friends. Dean shifted, pulling at the collar of his jacket and running his hand through his hair. Grinding his teeth, he scanned the lot, keeping an eye out for a certain silver fiat that he was desperate to avoid. His breath hitched has he noticed it pull up several yards away. Gabriel clambered out of the driver's seat, closely followed by Anna and Balthazar.

 

Then Cas climbed out of the passenger seat. He looked exhausted. His forehead was creased and his trench coat hung halfway down his shoulders while his shirt was creased and untucked. Dean watched as he shut the door and fixed one of his lapels that had been twisted awkwardly by the wind. His blue eyes slid over the heads of people - then came to rest on Dean sitting in his car like a coward. Panicking, Dean saw his eyes glisten and was shocked. He'd never seen Cas cry before. He'd seen Cas upset and close to the end of his emotional tether, but not once had tears made an appearance.

 

Suddenly, Cas turned away, clenching his fists. Gabriel noticed and looked over at Dean, a deep, unfathomable expression on his face. He looked...angry. Angry at Dean.

 

The four siblings marched up to the school, leaving a very hollow Dean to climb out of his car and follow a good thirty feet away.

 

Dean's first class was English, and Jo came to sit beside him. She looked him up and down with one appraising eye and shook her head.

 

"What?" Dean whispered to her.

 

"I don't understand why you continue to destroy yourself," she hissed back. "You know, I really thought you were taking an active measure to get yourself better, but now you've gone and broken the heart of the only person with a hope of healing you. Cas has been in love with you for the better part of thirteen years - God knows why. After everything, he at least deserves an acknowledgement for all he's done, but no, you just kick him to the kerb. And for what? Give me a decent answer for why you shattered that poor boy, Dean Winchester."

 

Dean swallowed. He hadn't told anyone about his little conversation with Luke Novak and he wasn't planning to. He was about to open his mouth to make up some bullshit reply, but the teacher began talking again and Jo turned to pay attention, leaving Dean absorbed in a swirl of darkness.

 

At lunchtime, Dean got his food and, determinedly not looking at the very real, very blue-eyed presence across the room, sat down at a table on his own. Unfortunately, Jo, Pam, Chuck and Benny plonked themselves around him. He'd have to wallow later then.

 

Chuck chattered about the latest edition of the school newspaper while Dean half-heartedly picked at his food. Once or twice, he glanced up to the table where the Novaks were sitting and found Cas watching him. Always watching him.

 

After school, Sam had basketball club, so Dean drove home on his own. When inside the apartment, he grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl and bit into it, the juice exploding in his mouth. 

 

Sitting down on the couch, he flipped through channels, counting at least five with the same SpongeBob episode airing. He sat there aimlessly, the apple growing brown in his hand, while SpongeBob laughed his stupid square face off about something or other. Soon enough, the episode was over and not a word of it had processed through Dean's brain. Scratching his jaw, he glanced over at the fridge, where John's six pack of beer was sitting. No. No, he wasn't going to. He was done with using alcohol for self-medication. He was done, full stop. Done with everything.

 

Sighing, he stood up and walked into his bedroom, throwing the apple in the bin as he went. One of his Led Zeppelin posters had fallen. It lay in a pathetic, crumpled heap on the floor and Dean scowled at it. Even his posters had given up.

 

Evidently, he had nothing else to do, so he wandered over to his desk, planning to get some homework done. But something on the desk made him halt.

 

That goddamn fucking picture.

 

He'd taken it out - the one that Cas had drawn of the two of them when they were eleven - and laid it carefully on the desk, then forgotten about it. The young, pencilled versions of him and Cas grinned up at him, daring him to do something.

 

That was when he lost it.

 

He took the picture, crumpled it up and threw it across the room, then slid the rest of the contents of the desk onto the floor. Hands trembling, he picked up a discarded shoe and chucked it at his mirror, splintering it into a thousand pieces. Not as many pieces as Dean was in, though. He ripped all the posters off the wall and yelled in frustration.

 

Breathing erratically, he turned to survey the damage he'd done. The bedroom was practically in ruins.

 

He just had to fuck up everything he could, didn't he?

 

Grabbing his keys, he stumbled out of the apartment and ran down the stairs. Once he was out into the street, the tears were coming at a steady pace and people eyed him in shock. The world pounded around his head as he half-walked-half-ran down the sidewalk. All he could hear was the sound of his own heart.

 

In the distant echoes of his mind, a reasonable voice mused that this panic attack was just an effect of the depression multiplied with the stress multiplied with long-term effects of his overdose, but it was outweighed by the voice that roared at him to keep going. He ran down a pathway and came out into the local park. Children playing soccer stopped and stared. Some pointed and laughed, while others shuffled away from him. He stumbled sideways and back and forth and lowered himself down against the gate and put his head between his knees.

 

He didn't know how long he sat there, sobbing, but eventually a pair of soothing hands came around his shoulders, a familiar voice coaxing him gently to look up. He obeyed, blinking through the blur of his tears as the oh-so-soft face filled his view. Blue eyes, a scruff of dark, messy hair.

 

His saviour.

 

Cas moved beside him, putting his arms around him and easing his head into his chest. He whispered calming words into Dean's ear, kissing the top of his forehead.

 

Even after Dean had crushed his heart between his fist, Cas had come back to, once again, bring him back from the edge of the crevice of his darkness. In his terrified, delirious fever, Dean decided that Cas must be an angel.

 

After all, he had gripped him tight and raised him from perdition.

 

 

Little did they know, across the park, somebody was sitting on a bench, legs crossed demurely, watching them.

 

Crowley took a drag from his cigarette, and pondered this new development. It certainly hadn't taken the two of those boys very long to go running back into each other's arms. It was really quite pathetic.

 

You see, after Dean had dropped Crowley like he was last year's fashion trend, Crowley had been very insulted. He'd been insulted enough to do a little digging of his own on Dean Winchester. Of course, he'd discovered all about the Winchesters and their bloody history with Luke Novak. Poor old Mary Winchester. She really didn't stand a chance.

 

Crowley had found it quite bizarre that Dean would be so infatuated with someone who's brother brought about the death of his mother. He'd demanded at once that he meet this mysterious Luke Novak. And he'd not been disappointed.

 

To Dean, who, to be honest, was really quite thick when it came to these things, Crowley looked like a regular low-life high school dropout with nothing better to do than binge drink every day. But Crowley had contacts. Oh, he certainly did. In fact, he was very well-connected, if he did say so himself.

 

Anyway, back to Luke. Yes, Crowley had been impressed with the man's capacity for utter destruction. But he found he was thinking too small. Luke wanted the boring old trope of hurting Castiel to get to Dean, or vice versa. However, Crowley had known Dean for quite a while. He knew his strengths and weaknesses. He knew how to get the boy to trust him. And, most of all, he knew how to throw the punches where it would really, really hurt. So the two of them, Luke and Crowley, had devised a plan. Dean and Castiel were behaving just as they'd predicted, and everything was falling into place.

 

You know what they say; Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

 

Of course, Crowley wasn't a woman, but the principle still stood.


	17. Thanks for the Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you all for all the amazing positivity! Sorry this chapter took a few days to post, but I've been really swamped with coursework. Hopefully the next chapter will be up sooner!

Cas walked Dean home. When they got back, Sam was sitting on the couch in front of the TV, and he leapt up when they walked through the door. He stopped, hand midair, brow furrowed, when he saw Dean's tear-stained face.

"Dean...are you all right?" he asked uncertainly. Dean nodded unsteadily.

"It's okay, Sam," Cas said softly. Sam slowly nodded, and Cas led Dean into his bedroom, pausing for a moment when he saw the mess it was in.

"I'm so sorry-" Dean started, but was silenced when Cas held his hand up.

"Please don't apologise, Dean. Sit down."

Dean obliged.

"I can't believe Sam saw me like this," he groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. Cas sat down beside him.

"You just had a panic attack. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Dean looked at Cas, who was studying his hands very closely. 

"I'm such a goddamn jerk," he said. Cas looked at him sharply.

"Dean-"

"Don't. What I said to you in the car was...it was awful."

Cas' eyes pored into his. "Dean, I want you to tell me exactly what Lucifer said to you in the warehouse."

Dean's shoulders slumped in defeat. "We can't beat him, Cas. He's too powerful. He's got eyes and ears everywhere. He said...he said if I didn't leave you alone, he was going to unleash hell on earth."

He felt his hands trembling, and Cas reached over to softly cover them with his own.

"We can stop him, Dean. We may not have enough evidence now, but we've got Charlie. She'll uncover all the digital evidence in a split second. It's just a matter of getting to Michael's computer now that he has it under lock and key and surveillance at all times."

Dean found himself shaking his head. "No, this is bigger than us, Cas. We're just a bunch of kids who think we have a ghost of a chance in defeating somebody who can't be defeated-"

He never managed to finish his sentence, because before he could, John Winchester barged through his bedroom door. The two boys leapt apart as if they'd been electrocuted.

John stood in the middle of the room, looking between the two of them, breathing heavily. Dean was disgusted to find he could smell the rank stink of beer and piss and cigarettes.

"Wanna tell me what exactly happened this week, boy?" John barked.

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"I AM TALKING ABOUT WHEN MY FOURTEEN YEAR OLD SON WENT MISSING AND NOBODY BOTHERED TO INFORM ME! AND NOW I FIND HE'S BACK AND NOT EVEN ABLE TO TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED BECAUSE HE WAS SO SCARED!" John roared, spit flying everywhere. Cas flinched, but Dean didn't move a muscle.

"I didn't know you cared," he said, looking the man straight in the eye.

 

Five years ago, when Dean was twelve, John came back from a business trip at two in the morning. Sam had long since gone to bed, but Dean had decided to stay up and wait for his father to return.

When he finally had come trudging through the door, bringing the stench of alcohol with him, he'd turned to glare at Dean with contempt.

"You should be in bed by now."

"I wanted to stay up and wait for you, Dad."

John had sniffed. "Did you make Sam dinner every night like I told you?"

"Yes, Dad."

"Did you give him the tuna sandwiches I left in the refrigerator?"

"He doesn't like tuna."

John had frozen. "I beg your pardon?" he'd said, his voice dangerous.

Dean had faltered. "I...he doesn't like tuna. He's n-never liked it."

"Are you telling me I don't know what my son likes and doesn't like?"

"N-no, Dad. I-"

"GO TO YOUR ROOM, THEN!"

Dean had scampered away, blinking to hide the tears that stung his eyes. He'd been so excited to show his dad how well he had taken care of Sammy. He'd lain awake for the rest of that night, listening to John stomp around in the kitchen, wondering what he'd done to be such an awful son.

 

Jo was throwing a house party.

She claimed it was because they all needed a break from the terror Luke presented to them and should act like normal teenagers for a while, but Dean suspected the real reason was that she wanted to get Benny to notice her. He'd been wondering for a while when they were going to get together - constantly giving each other secret glances and pining after one another. Jo evidently had the same train of thought.

She'd invited as many people as she could and packed off Ellen (who Dean was surprised to find was also his group counsellor) to a hotel for the night, insisting she needed womanly time. Dean often pondered what 'womanly time' consisted of, but he decided not to question it.

Before all the guests arrived, he was lounging on the couch watching Dr Sexy MD on the cable while Jo clattered around in her kitchen. She clattered into the living room and looked down at him disapprovingly.

"You know, you could make yourself useful and go get the beer keg from the garden shed. It's not healthy to be watching all that crap TV."

"It's not crap TV," Dean insisted. "Dr Sexy is a thoughtful and educational drama about the pressures of working in a hospital."

Jo snorted. "I think we all know why you're obsessed with that show, Dean." She backed out of the room, smirking and singing, "Doctor, doctor, give me the news, I got a bad case of lovin' youuuu!"

I am going to KILL YOU!" Dean yelled, pelting a cushion as she giggled and skidded out of sight. 

An hour later, Chuck, Pam, Benny, Charlie, Cas and Gabriel arrived, bringing packs of beer with them. Gabriel immediately began spreading confetti, insisting to a much protesting Jo that it would spruce up the party. Cas moved next to Dean, cautiously smiling up at him.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Surprisingly, I'm good. We all need to forget, at least for a while," Dean replied, softly nudging him. Cas leaned up to shyly kiss him, but was interrupted by the ringing doorbell. 

Jo ran past them frantically, bellowing "I'LL GET IT! I'LL GET IT!"

Soon, many more guests had arrived and the party was in full swing. Dean leaned against the kitchen counter, rolling his eyes when he saw that Gabriel was already drunk. He was leaning against Charlie, slurring a very bad rendition of 'My Heart Will Go On' and insisting that she was Kate Winslet.

Over the noise of the party, Dean barely heard the doorbell ring again. He briefly wondered who would arrive an hour late, but shrugged and went to answer it when it became apparent that nobody else had heard it. 

Pushing through the crowd, he made it to the door and managed to open it. His jaw dropped slightly.

Crowley was standing there, poised as ever, surveying him with amused eyes.

"Hello there, Deanie. Surprised to see your old pal again?"

Dean was frozen to the spot, unable to move. Crowley couldn't be here. Not when Dean had successfully eradicated him from his life.

"It's rude to keep a guest waiting, you know," Crowley said, impatiently pushing past him and into the house. Dean closed the door and found Jo, who was watching Crowley uneasily.

"Did you invite him?" he murmured into her ear. She shook her head, frowning.

"I don't know what he's doing here," she replied.

"Everyone into the living room!" A voice boomed. Dean looked into the living room to find the source and saw Gabriel standing unsteadily on the coffee table, holding a microphone. How he had come into possession of said microphone, Dean had no idea.

"Come on guys!" Gabriel continued. "We're playing 'Never Have I Ever'."

There was a collective groan and Gabriel's face fell.

"How come whenever I try to get you folks to play party games you always decide to be boring?" he whined.

Ten minutes later, a good twenty or so of them had deigned to play, including Dean, his friends and, to his dismay, Crowley.

"Okay," Gabriel began. "Seems like it's always me who has to explain the game, so I'll go. One person says, 'never have I ever' and then says something they've never done. All the people in the circle who have done that thing have to take a swig of alcohol. It's simple enough for all you dipshits, so let's get going."

Cas, who was next to Dean, whispered in his ear;

"My experience with Gabriel's party games is that they never end well."

Dean smirked. "I'm putting bets on that Bela Talbot will be the first to cry."

"I'll start," Gabriel said, waving his cup around gleefully. "Never have I ever had sex with a man."

Woah. So they were getting down and dirty right from the bat. Most of the girls apart from Charlie - who wasn't even attracted to men - took a drink, and so did Crowley, which made the others laugh. Not Dean, though. Crowley shrugged.  
"Got to taste all the food on the plate, haven't I?" 

"All right, all right, I'll go next," Jo said. "Never have I ever kissed a Novak boy."

Pam winked at Gabriel and drank, eliciting another laugh from the group. Dean raised his cup.

"Guess I'll be drinking, then," he said, taking a swig. He looked sideways at Cas, who was blushing furiously.

"Ooh! Me next!" announced Pam. "Never have I ever had sexual fantasies about a teacher."

Bela and several others drank. Dean coughed violently when he saw Jo take a drink.

"What?" she said, wide-eyed. "Our English teacher is a hottie."

"So who wants to go next?" Gabriel asked.

"I'll go," said Crowley. He was staring straight at Dean, who felt his heart sink. This could not be good.

"Never have I ever attempted suicide."

Silence. Dean could hear a pin drop it was so quiet. He could feel his blood rush as he saw everybody turn with horrified faces to look at him. Nobody said a word, and he felt his palms begin to sweat and his heart begin to thud an erratic rhythm. He'd never wished Crowley would choke on his own vomit more than he did at that moment.

But then, he thought; fuck it. There was so much more for him now than to dwell on the past. He had Cas, who was presently sitting stiff-boned beside him, shooting Crowley a hard, deathly glare. Cas who, no matter what, hadn't given up on him. Not for one, single second. They were facing an almost unsolvable problem involving a murdering psychopath, but still the boy with the trench coat was by his side.

So he picked up his cup, and smiled, raising it in acknowledgment to Crowley. Then he brought the cup to his lips and he drank.


	18. A Last, Unspoken, Drunken Promise

The party continued after the game ended. Before he knew what was happening, Dean was grabbed by the arm and hauled into the kitchen. He twisted to find Pam hanging onto him, eyes glinting mischievously.

"We need to get Jo and Benny alone together," she declared, cheeks slightly flushed by the alcohol she had consumed.

Dean blinked. "Uh...okay?"

"I know for a fact that Benny hasn't had sex in at least six months, and that is a crime against humanity," she continued. Dean scrunched up his face.

"I really didn't need to know that, Pam." He took a drink from his cup. 

"Oh, shut up. I thought you were into the idea of hot, naked boys now."

He spit out his beer in shock and surprise, and she bounced away from him disgustedly.

"W-what?"

"Or is that just Cas you think about?" she said as if he hadn't even spoken.

"Uh..."

"Don't be a pansy, Dean. Man up and freaking kiss the boy again. It's so obvious that you're torturing him."

"I'm not-"

"Anyway, back to our current situation. As of right now, Benny and Jo are in the living room, studiously avoiding each other. I'm going to go and change that. You coming?"

"No."

She shrugged. "Whatever." With that, she skipped off, leaving Dean to turn around and get a refill of his drink. 

Once he had gotten more beer, he leaned back, subduing the scene and noticing that Gabriel had resumed trying to throw confetti everywhere, much to the dismay of the people around him. Dean laughed to himself. The boy just wouldn't quit.

He saw Charlie over by the beer keg, cheering while some kid did the upside-down drinking thing and prepared to join her, but was pulled back by a hand on his shoulder.

Crowley.

He was standing, there, eyebrows tilted, a small smirk on his face.

Dean narrowed his eyes and shrugged his hand off.

"What the fuck were you playing at back there, Crowley?" he growled, throwing as much venom into his voice as he could. Crowley took a step back, slightly surprised.

"Beg your pardon?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

Crowley let out a demure laugh. "Oh, that. I was just having a little fun with my old friend, Deanie-boy. Didn't mean anything by it."

Dean balled his fist at his side. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"My name is Not Deanio or Deano or Deanie-boy. So stop using those stupid nicknames." His breathing was growing heavy.

Crowley jerked an eyebrow. "Would you rather I call you faggot?"

He was going to play that game.

Dean placed his cup on the counter, took a small breath, and-

Punched Crowley in the face.

He watched him reel back, face frozen in a permanent state of shock, bringing a hand to his cheek. He stared at Dean in hurt astonishment.

Dean leaned forward and hissed so that only Crowley could hear;

"I cut you out of my life. I made a change for the better. You're a waste of space and I'm no better, but at least I'm trying to turn it around. You'll always be alone because you don't have any friends, and the only ones you ever make are lonely, desperate kids with no other choice. Have a nice life, Crowley."

Before he risked making a scene, he pulled away and strode out of the room, silently congratulating himself. He'd done well, if he did say so himself. It was a good feeling, knowing that he'd never have to go running back to Crowley. It was as if the world had been lifted off his shoulders. It-

Somebody hauled him into the nearest closet by the back of his t-shirt.

Plunged into darkness, Dean shook his head. How many times was he going to be ambushed today? Geez, it was ridiculous.

Then he heard someone fiddling for a switch, and the light turned on, illuminating the face of the person who had stolen him.

It was Cas.

His eyes were wide and slightly dilated, and his cheeks were oddly flushed with red. An unsure smile tilted his lips.

"Dean...I think I'm drunk," he slurred. Dean was taken aback.

"Woah, Cas. I saw you, like, twenty minutes ago and you were fine. What happened?"

Cas furrowed his brows. "Jo gave me a drink...I don't think it was beer."

Dean groaned. "Great. That's just great. We're both drunk - although you're a tad more intoxicated than I am - I just punched Crowley and now we're in a small, confined closet together." It was apparent that Cas hadn't heard a word he had said when he started licking his lips.

"You're really pretty, you know," he said. Dean's heart sped up.

"Thanks-" he was cut of when Cas leaned forward and, without warning, kissed him with great force. Dean stumbled backwards, almost falling over - he was already unsteady from his intake of alcohol - but Cas grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back up. Dean felt his tongue slide into his mouth and he only just stopped a noise from escaping out of his throat. He didn't know Cas could kiss like this. He pushed Dean against the wall behind him, almost frustrated that simply kissing wasn't close enough. They pulled back for a second, then their mouths collided together again and Dean's blood rushed and roared in his ears. He'd never, not once in his life, kissed somebody and felt a fire erupt in his stomach. His hand went around the back of Cas' head and tangled itself in his hair, and he tilted his own head to the side as Cas pressed against him. 

The world could have fallen around them and they wouldn't have even noticed. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time. In his drunken, elated state, Dean was consumed by only one thought: so this was what it was like to be in love with someone.

 

The next morning, Dean woke up surrounded by cushions. The sun's demanding rays shone on his face, commanding him to get up. With a groan, he sat up; his head throbbed painfully. Blinking and rubbing sleep dust out of his eyes, he looked around, remembering that he was in Jo's living room. Loud, obnoxious snoring confirmed that Benny was still asleep across the room, and Dean was surprised to find he was tangled up next to Jo on the other couch. Fantastic. They'd had sex while he was passed out mere metres away from them. He was just lucky he hadn't woken up while they were in the middle of it.

He heaved himself off the couch and walked into the kitchen, rummaging in the cupboards to find some aspirin for his hangover. He found some, and he'd just swallowed the pill with some water when he heard footsteps behind him.

He turned to find Cas, hair sticking up all over the place, squinting tiredly. Damn it. He looked adorable.

"My head hurts horribly," Cas said, his voice rasping throatily. Dean would have laughed, if not for the hangover making him feel like shit.

"That'll be the stuff you drank last night," he replied. "Here, have some aspirin." He handed Cas another pill and the glass of water, which he obediently took and swallowed.

"I'm never drinking again," he said adamantly. Dean did laugh at that.

"Yeah, good luck with that."

He studied Cas' tired face and watched it grow sincere.

"I had fun at the party, Dean," he said, almost shyly. Dean felt his heart soften and, once again, a little piece of the darkness ebbed away, replaced by Cas' light.

"So did I," he replied.

He pulled up a chair and sat at the kitchen table, motioning for Cas to sit next to him. He did, and, while they waited for the others to wake up, they talked. Talked about anything. The sun, the stars, the sky. They talked for hours, and when the others awoke, and came bustling into the kitchen, Dean found himself disappointed. In the past year, he'd forgotten how the sound of Cas' voice was his favourite noise in the world.

 

Two miles away, in the old, abandoned Blockbusters warehouse, Crowley sat back in his chair, replaying the tape on his camera. It had really been quite an ingenious idea of his, he thought as he watched it for the third time. His plan was slowly beginning to piece together, little by little, and soon enough he'd have all the tools to carry it out and unleash fire unto his target.

The door swung open, and Lucifer Novak walked in, rubbing his hands together briskly.

"Did it work? Did you do it?" he asked eagerly.

"Of course I did, my friend. I told you I'd get it done, didn't I?" Crowley replied, watching the film play out on the screen.

Lucifer outstretched his arm. "Let me see it."

Crowley sighed. "If you must. It's nothing that exciting." He placed the camcorder into Lucifer's waiting hand and the man snatched it up, playing the tape from the start, eyes filling with glee.

"When's the next step?" he asked him.

"All in due time," Crowley answered, inspecting his fingernails. 

Lucifer was chuckling to himself as he rewound the tape and played it from the start, watching on the screen as Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak drunkenly began kissing and shoving each other against the wall of the small closet.

They had been none the wiser to the camera filming their every passionate move on the shelf in the corner.


	19. Something's Not Right Here

Group counselling was beginning to grow more and more tedious.  
Jo's mom wasn't the problem. Ellen was awesome; stern but caring with a cool sense of humour. She led the sessions greatly, listening to everybody and coaxing them to share without being condescending or patronising. 

Some of Dean's fellow crazies were tough pieces of work, though.

Every week, he had to listen for two hours to an assortment of narcissists, paranoids, sociopaths and even a few full-blown psychos. He got that their mentality wasn't their fault for the most part. He also got that he was in the exact same boat as them. But going through hearing the same people explain animatedly about their need to club animals to death and manipulate all their friends was driving Dean to the edge of insanity. He was so grateful that Charlie was there with him. Every time someone said something particularly alarming or crazy, he would meet her gaze and they'd smirk and roll their eyes. 

There were several kids in the session that were like him. Depressives. No-lifers. He hated them. He didn't like to look at their gloomy, hopeless faces or the telltale track-marks of past heroin injections. Every time he spied the dull gleam in their eyes he felt sinister kicks of recognition. That gleam was what he saw every time he looked in the mirror - and he loathed it. He loathed that these miserable remnants of human beings were all him, just with different faces and stories. He was them; a ghost of a person trapped in the spiral of a sick, dark disease. The revulsion that he felt whenever he saw them... That was what other people felt when they looked at him. Those kids were constant reminders of what he'd done to himself.

On this particular day, though, he didn't notice any of them. He was too busy absorbed in the memory of how Cas had kissed him at Jo's party. His lips were still buzzing and his heart was still singing and he felt like a fucking idiot. Overnight, he had turned into that one twat in any movie - the one that's so busy caught up in the fluffy cloud of their sugar-sweet love that they become oblivious to the world around them. Dean had always hated that twat. Now he was that twat. It was foolish.

Dean wasn't stupid. He knew his bliss was short-lived, like it always was. Sooner or later, Luke would find out that he hadn't kept to his promise, and that was not an exciting prospect. He knew it was pretty moronic, but he kind of hoped that they'd have a plan before that day came. Dean was a procrastinator, especially when it came to entertaining not-very-nice ideas.

A sharp nudge to his side brought him crashing back to reality. He hissed in pain and rubbed the tender spot, reproachfully glaring at Charlie, the one who'd poked him. She raised her eyes and looked pointedly behind him, causing him to turn around and come face to face with a disapproving Ellen.

"Dean, if you believe you are too good to listen to my sessions, the door's right over there," she said. There was a reason she was cranky today; she had come home unexpectedly to find the house trashed, Jo and the others still asleep and Dean and Cas sitting, terrified, at the kitchen table, interrupted from their philosophical conversation. It was safe to say that she would not be putting up with any of Dean's bullshit for a long time to come.

"Uh...sorry, Ellen," he practically squeaked, resisting the urge to turn and pinch Charlie when he heard her snigger next to him. Ellen, obviously unimpressed, gave him a blank look.

"It's your turn to share, Dean. Unless you'd rather go back to your brooding. It's fine by me."

He really hated it when she got all passive-aggressive.

"That's okay, Ellen," he said through clenched teeth. "I'll do some fucking sharing."

"Language."

"Sorry."

Ellen clapped her hands on her thighs. "Well, then. Do you have anything you're burning to talk about? What did you do this week?"

"I, uh, went to a party." He winced when he saw a vein pop in her temple. He probably should just not mention the party. "Mostly did some studying. Hung out with friends. Nothing exciting, really." Liar, liar, pants on fire.  
"I see. Any 'special' friends?"

The question made him jump out of his seat violently. Unfortunately, because he'd been slouched down as far as he could go, he ended up just half-jerking up and then sliding off his chair and onto the floor, landing on his ass. Feeling his face heat up and burn, he shamefully clambered back up and plonked himself down. Ellen's mouth was twitching, indicating that she was fighting a smile.

"I'll take that as a yes, then, shall I?" she asked. He put on his best scowl for her.

Just then, she checked her watch and sighed. "Well, that's time up for today. Off you go, guys. Oh, and Dean, you tell your daddy that if he winds up in my front garden, drunk and hollering one last time, I will personally break his fingers one by one."  
Dean blanched. So John had gotten pissed and wandered down to the Harvelles' street again. What a fucking embarrassment. He mentally considered just tying his father up at night and being done with it.

He and Charlie walked out of the building together. The sun had almost set by then, and the air was blowing a chilly breeze. He hugged his arms around himself.

"You know, I still hate it that you don't go to our school," he told her. She shrugged, smirking to herself.

"I barely show up for class anyway, so I don't think it makes much difference, Dean."

"Good point."

At that moment, her forehead puckered a little and she began chewing on her lower lip. She opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to change her mind at the last second.

"What is it?" he asked her. She sighed and looked up to the sky, absently swiping her hair out of her face.

"It's just...I've got a feeling. A weird feeling. Somehow, I don't think Lucifer is quite finished with us. Doesn't it seem kinda odd to you that he just let us go? Just like that?"

Something grated against Dean's insides. Probably guilt. He guessed it was guilt.

"I have something to tell you," he said eventually, resigning himself. Her eyes sharply met his.

"What?"

"That day when we went to the warehouse and Luke was talking to me separately - he tried to make a deal. A proposition, really."

She blinked, not understanding. "I don't know what you mean."

"He wants Cas to join him, I guess. Carry on the family tradition of becoming a criminal, and all that. He seems to think that the only thing stopping Cas from staying loyal to his family is me. So he said that, as long as I kept my distance from Cas, he would leave us alone. But I couldn't. I couldn't stay away, because I'm a pathetic piece of shit. It's as if I can't function without the guy, and I hate myself, because I've condemned us all. I know I'm selfish and I know I'm horrible, but I couldn't do it. Cas was able to keep away from me for an entire year in order to protect me, but I can't stay away for a single day alone."

Charlie tilted her head, considering him for a moment. She fiddled with the strap of her bag, seemingly lost in thought. Then she spoke;

"Can I be honest, Dean? That is the biggest piece of self-indulgent crap I ever heard. 'Boo-hoo, I'm an awful person because I allowed myself to love someone'. You just can't lump the responsibility of everyone's lives on yourself. It isn't fair. It's not a crime to need someone, you know. From what I've seen of you and Cas with each other, I think it's safe to say that the two of you have more of a chance at stopping Mr Supervillain together than you do apart. Yes, watching you struggle to overcome your feelings for one another is like watching paint dry, but you have something that most people spend their entire lives trying and failing to discover. So, quit moping and go kiss your boyfriend. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to my LARP-ing session with the rest of the Geek Squad."

She walked away, zipping up her hoodie and leaving Dean confused as hell and wondering what the fuck LARP-ing was.

 

A week later, Dean sat with Cas and the rest of his friends, watching Sam at a soccer tournament. They were all sat against the wall and the others chatted while Dean and Cas cheered on Sam and his teammates. It was no use, though. They were getting thrashed, and Dean was feeling a burning humiliation for his brother. Sam soldiered on though; giving Dean thumbs ups and 'ok' signs whenever he kicked the ball. Dean was just glad he was enjoying himself.

As they sat back to watch the game, Cas began tracing patterns onto Dean's hand with his finger. It was really freaking distracting, actually. Dean had half a mind to just drag Cas into the bushes and kiss him for as long as he could, but he doubted the others would appreciate him abandoning them to make out. He flipped Cas' hand over so that his palm was upwards and laced their fingers together. Normally, he would have felt like a mushy idiot, but with Cas it just felt...natural. He glanced at him sideways and found him watching Dean intensely, his eyes wide. Neither of them spoke a word, but it was as if they were having a whole conversation without saying anything. That was better, in Dean's mind. People gave words power, and things with power tended to go wonky and distorted. This - just looking at each other - it said everything that the words weren't able to. 

To be honest, after all this time, Dean still hadn't fathomed the boy. He really was like something out of a dream, sent to save Dean at exactly the right times that he needed to be saved. Castiel Novak was still an enigma, still something to be marvelled at and wondered about. When Dean was a child, he had never had any imaginary friends, and he knew now that it was because he'd never needed them. Imaginary friends were there for when you were alone and craved some kind of connection that family could not simply sustain. But, for Dean, that connection had always been Cas.

Suddenly, Cas' eyes shifted to something behind him, and he let go of Dean's hand, panic bubbling his expression. The others all jumped to their feet too, fearfully looking at the area behind Dean's line of vision.

"Oh, God," Pam said, clutching Chuck's shoulder.

"Dean..." Cas' voice trembled.

"What? What is it?" Dean demanded, standing up and turning around.

Oh, shit.

Crowley was leaning against a large van, surrounded by about ten of his cronies. Dean realised in utter horror that the person behind the steering wheel of the van was none other than Lucifer Novak.

Fuck. Crowley was...Crowley was working with him. This was not good. This was so, so not good.

Of course Dean's first thought was-

"Sam!" he yelled, turning around. Sam paused in the middle of a tackle, causing him to be knocked aside. He straightened up and scowled at Dean.

"What do you want? Can't you see I'm playing here?" he hollered back.

"Go home, now."

"What? No way!"

"Sam, do as I say, now. Go home and lock the doors. If Dad's at home, tell him not to go out. Do you understand me?"

"But-"

"DO IT NOW!"

Sam must have detected the sheer urgency in Dean's voice, because he turned, muttered something to his team about 'weird brotherly freak-outs" and left the field, crossing the road to where the apartment block was. Dean didn't take his eyes off him until he had closed the door behind him.

When he turned back around, his friends had gone. Shit, shit, shit. They must have run off, thinking he was right behind them. What was also not very good news at all was the fact that Crowley, the others and the van had disappeared too.  
He walked out of the field and to the spot where the van had been, pulling out his phone and planning to call Jo.

Before he had even typed in the third number, he was smashed in the back of the head and took a nose dive towards the pavement. A pair of arms caught him and a very familiar aristocratic English accent whispered in his ear;

"Oh, Deanie, you've been a very naughty boy."

He fell into black unconsciousness, his last lucid thought being worried for where the hell his friends were.

Where the hell Cas was.


	20. The Bringer of Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys. It's almost over. I've finished writing the whole story, and the last chapter will probably be up tomorrow. I just wanted you all to know that I couldn't have done it without all of your amazing feedback and inspiration. So thank you for that. Anyway, on with it!

As Cas and the others rounded a third corner, they came to a stop and all of them braced their hands on their knees, breath coming in gasps. They were on the edge of a street with a row of coffee shops - Cas counted at least three Starbucks'. He leaned against the wall and watched Gabriel do a little victory dance on the pavement.

"Man, that was awesome. Did you see how we just skedaddled outta there, Luke didn't even see us leave. Wow, man." Gabriel clapped Cas on the shoulder. "Hey, little bud, I didn't think you could run that fast."

"You call me 'little bud', but I'd like to remind you that I am both taller and one month older than you."

Gabriel shook his head, raising his eyes skywards. "It's called affection, Cassie. You might like to try it sometime. I'm gonna call Anna and Balthazar to make sure Luke didn't get to them." He wandered off a few metres away from them and pulled his phone out.

"He's right, though. That was pretty awesome," said Benny. 

"He's not done with us yet, guys," reminded Chuck.

"Oh, don't be such a buzzkill." Pam flicked him on the side of the head, making Charlie giggle.

Cas turned to smile at Dean, relieved that they'd gotten away.

But Dean wasn't there.

"I can't believe that Crowley guy is working with Luke," said Jo. "Mind you, he was acting real fishy at the party."

"Have any of you seen Dean?" Cas asked urgently, panic squeezing his heart. Nobody heard him.

"Yeah, he always seemed kind of a douche, in that weirdo waistcoat, sounding like he's from Victorian England," Benny said to Jo.

"'One is not amused'!" Jo replied, and they all fell into laughter.

"Where is Dean?" Cas insisted, his voice drowned out by the sound of their snickers. He balled his fists. "JO!" he yelled. That got their attention. Jo paused and looked at him, eyes wide. 

"Uh, what is it, Cas?" she asked apprehensively.

"None of you have noticed that Dean isn't with us." His voice trembled and he willed himself not to cry. He would not cry. He wouldn't.

"Shit," Benny cursed. "Fucking goddamned shit."

"They must have taken him. We have to go and get him. We've got no choice," said Chuck, fiddling anxiously with his glasses. Cas noticed that Chuck's fingers were ever so slightly trembling and was hit with a powerful realisation: he and Dean had dragged their friends into this, and, not once, had any of them complained. They could have simply walked away, preferring not to get involved. Instead, all of them had risen to it - risen to taking on a criminal. The idea that these people were so fiercely loyal to him both touched and terrified Cas.

Gabriel came walking back towards them, putting his phone back in his denim pocket. He turned to Cas, a relieved grin on his face.

"Anna and Balthazar are fine. I told them to go out to a coffee shop or something to avoid Zachie and the others." Noticing Cas' pinched brow and the way he was chewing on his bottom lip, he slung an arm around his brother.

"What's up?" he asked, only just realising the tension amongst the others.

Charlie sighed. "Dean's gone missing, and we're guessing Luke's people probably got him."

Gabriel's eyes widened and he exhaled in a slow puff of air. "Shiiiit."

"I know."

Gabriel turned to Cas and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't worry, bro. Dean'll be okay. He's too much of a smartass to give in to old Lukie."

"Dean's smartassery is what I'm worried about," said Jo, running her hands through her hair. "You know what he's like. He'll end up getting pissed and saying something stupid, and then Luke will probably hurt him." She spotted Gabriel's pointed look and head tilt towards Cas and quickly backtracked. "I mean, uh, he's not an idiot. He'll probably keep his mouth shut long enough for us to bust in and save his ass."

"That is somehow doubtful," said Benny, earning him a glare from Gabriel.

"How about we just go instead of chatting about how he'll be getting on?" Cas snapped, almost surprising himself. He was uncharacteristically impatient and could practically feel his blood buzzing. The idea of Dean getting hurt...it didn't bear thinking about. It made Cas want to...to... Well it made him want to blast Lucifer Novak to smithereens.

And he was afraid he just might do that if he found out that the man had as much as hurt a hair on Dean's head.

"Guys, it's okay," said Charlie, and they all turned to her. Her expression was a mixture of mischief and happiness. "I think I've got an idea."

 

Before Dean opened his eyes, the first thing he heard was a chuckle. Not a friendly chuckle, or even a sinister chuckle. Just a chuckle. If anything, it held a slight tinge of amusement and perhaps even a little endearment.

Dimly, he felt somebody dump him down onto what he presumed was a couch. It was soft and fabricated, and the cushion underneath his head was silkily plush. It felt wrong. So, so wrong.

He managed to force his eyelids apart and was, at first, blinded by white light. He squeezed his eyes shut against the harsh, demanding brightness, while dragging ragged breaths into his lungs. Exhausted and extremely aware of the throbbing pain at the back of his head where Crowley had hit him, he simply lay there, all the hard weight that had been building on top of him slowly easing off...

Until a voice brought him crashing down to the present.

"I can see why Castiel is so taken with you."

Dean jerked up into a sitting position, heart suddenly beating a wild rhythm. He looked around, panicking, and saw Luke leaning back in an armchair across the room, hands entwined and resting on his stomach. His mouth was quirked up at one corner as he looked at Dean, eyes twinkling. Like this, it was hard to remember that he was a psycho murderer. He looked like a normal man - and a handsome one at that. His blonde hair was effortlessly styled and stuck up the way an artist's or maybe a rockstar's would. It was difficult to equate this friendly, open-looking face with the one that had threatened him not too long ago. Still, Dean felt a surge of acidic hatred as he scowled at the man.

"Where am I?" he demanded. Luke raised his eyebrows, almost on the verge of laughing at Dean.

"Straight to the point, aren't you?"

"I want to know where I am."

Instead of answering, Luke just sat up and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands as he regarded Dean thoughtfully.

"It's a very odd twist of fate isn't it? That the boy my impressionable little brother happened to become infatuated with is the same one who's mother's death I ordered."

Dean felt his jaw clench and his entire being pull taut. Here he was, having a rather pleasant - albeit slightly one-sided - conversation with Mary's indirect killer. He imagined all the ways he would use the pillow underneath him to suffocate Luke until he couldn't breathe.

"Still," Luke continued, "I suppose, when you're practically God, fate doesn't really exist for you. No, coincidences are something for mortals."

Dean stared. Luke's words processed through his brain until it hit him; he was talking to a madman. Lucifer was completely and utterly out of his mind.

"Why do you do that?" he found himself asking.

Luke glanced at him, brow raised in surprise. "Do what?"

"You claim to be God, yet you act like the Devil. Your name is Lucifer, for fuck's sake!" Dean didn't fully understand why he was playing along, just knew that he had to keep him talking in order to stop him from going out and finding Cas.

"But are they not one and the same?" Luke asked. "Two all-powerful beings, hungry, desperate for dominance, battling it out for all eternity. I've often mused that, one day, God and Satan will come to realise that they are not all that different." He cocked his head, looking at Dean with interest. "Do you know what the name 'Lucifer' actually means?"

"No, and, to be honest, I don't particularly care."

"It means 'bringer of light'. I am enlightened, Dean. I have seen the way and I can show it to you. I can bring you out of the dark where you will step into the light alongside me."

"Are you tripping on acid?" It was a serious question.

Luke let out a short breath of air, in a kind of exhale-laugh. "Let me tell you a story."

"Oh, goody. I love those." Dean was aware he should probably tape his mouth shut at this point.

"You know that Castiel was adopted into our family when he was a baby. He never knew our father, because Emanuel Novak left us when Castiel had just been adopted. But I knew him, though. He was a priest, and he was utterly dedicated to God - I mean, it was borderline crazy how devoted the man was. Kids in our neighbourhood used to call him 'Jesus Man'. Anyway, when I was eleven, I met a new girl called Lilith at my middle school, and, I will be frank, I fell in love. I know I was only eleven, but this girl...she was everything. She was so painfully beautiful, and she shone like a beacon and, for some unknown reason, she chose me. Father, of course, hated her. He thought she was going to grow up to be a slut and a whore and he thought that I should be spending more time praying and worshipping Our Lord than letting myself become tainted by temptation. It was all so ridiculous. I was eleven, for goodness' sake. Anyway, the day I turned twelve was the first time he hit me. I had invited Lilith over for a birthday tea, and we were having the time of our lives, until Father came home from giving his sermon and kicked her out. He yelled at me for so long about how he had 'trusted me to heed his advice'. Then he'd slapped me, just once. I cried and I ran up to my bedroom. The next day, my uncle Zachariah came in to tell me that, overnight, Father had packed his bags and he'd left. He kept shouting at me that I'd driven his brother away and that I was the spawn of the devil and all that crap. Long story short, he became our guardian, and, for four straight years he managed to treat me like I was dirt on the bottom of his shoe. When I turned sixteen, I'd finally had enough. Enough of everything. I left a short note explaining my absence, then I disappeared, my only parting gift being a burning shop on the corner of the street. For several months, I didn't have any contact with my family. Then, Zachariah managed to contact me. They'd run into some financial troubles. Basically, they didn't have any money, and I had lots. So we came to an agreement. I would continue to fund them, as long as they would help me cover up my heinous crimes." Luke looked up at him then, slyly smirking at him, watching him from underneath his lashes. "I do have a penchant for fire, but you already knew that, didn't you?"

The only thing that stopped Dean from leaping forwards and wrapping his hands around Luke's throat was the opening door. Crowley stepped over the threshold and, being dragged behind him, was Cas.

Dean's heart gripped painfully with fear. No. Cas was not supposed to be here. He was supposed to be far away. He was supposed to be safe. He could not get hurt, because if that happened - Dean didn't know if he would be able to take it.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in," said Luke lazily. "Although Crowley always reminded me of a snake, rather than a cat. Wouldn't you agree, Dean?"

Cas was looking directly at Dean, expression almost unbearably apologetic. Dean's eyes lowered to where Crowley's hand was wrapped tightly around Cas' arm. And he had to fight the impulse to jump up and wrench them apart. 

He swallowed tightly, forcing himself to stay sitting where he was on the couch. A full twenty seconds passed where nobody spoke, until Crowley's gaze shifted expectantly to Luke.

"Would you like me to take it from here?" he asked. Luke shrugged and waved a hand in the air, leaning back in his armchair, all the while keeping his eyes on Dean, who didn't even notice because he was too busy staring anxiously at Cas.

Crowley stepped forward into the middle of the room, pulling - for some reason - a camcorder out of his pocket. He held it up and gestured towards Dean.

"Would you like to see what's on this, Deanie?"

"Not really," Dean replied, fighting to keep his voice from shaking. "For all I know, it could have your porn stash on it." Wonderful. He just had to cover it up with a smart comment, didn't he? Crowley narrowed his eyes and walked forwards until he was very close to Dean. He knelt down until he was at eye-level and folded the camcorder around in his hands.

"On here is a certain video of two certain boys at a party, in a closet. Which is rather hilarious and ironic, when you consider what these two boys are doing inside said closet."

It took Dean a moment until he realised that the camcorder in Crowley's hand held footage of him and Cas at Jo's party, getting rather hot and heavy.

So that's why Crowley was there.

"So," he continued. "How would you like it if this little video got out all around that school of yours? All those judgemental children, watching the once-womaniser Dean Winchester get it on with a boy."

For several seconds, Dean just stared at Crowley.

And then, very slowly and very deliberately, he shrugged.

"You think I give a shit?"

Crowley's eyelids fluttered a few times, as if he wasn't comprehending. Dean watched with satisfaction. Crowley wasn't often shocked, and Dean enjoyed being the one doing the shocking.

Of course, he was also satisfied because he had successfully kept both Luke's and Crowley's attention away from Cas.

"I'm - I'm sorry, what? I don't understand."

"I don't know, Crowley. Maybe you just don't know me as well as you thought you did. You see, I'm not all that closeted anymore. Sorry to disappoint." He could feel the wide grin slowly spreading across his face, and he did nothing to stop it.

He watched Crowley's face go through about fifty different expressions as he comprehended what Dean was telling him.

Then he got mad. Really freaking mad.

He grabbed a fistful of Dean's hair and yanked it forwards, trembling with barely constrained fury.

"You listen to me, Dean Winchester. You scorned me. You dropped me. You punched me. You have consistently made me look like a fool. We had fun while it lasted, but you're with the big boys now. I don't play nice. I could hurt you in every way possible. I could-"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you"

Cas had spoken up for the first time. He was looking at Crowley, his big, blue, unnerving gaze regarding him with a hefty amount of disdain. Honestly, Dean had never seen Cas look so cool and collected.

He was beginning to suspect that Cas knew something he didn't.

"What are you talking about?" Luke asked from his armchair. 

"I mean, I wouldn't do that. If I were you. It'll just add to your record for when you go to court," Cas explained, although that wasn't much of an explanation. Crowley let go of Dean's hair and slowly advanced towards Cas.

"Kid, do you mean to tell me-"

Cas pulled an object out of his trenchcoat pocket, stopping Crowley short. A small, black, flat rectangular device. Feeling stupid, Dean realised that it was a phone. He watched as Cas turned it on and displayed the screen, showing a digital map with a pulsing red dot in the middle.

"You may have been able to anticipate our moves, but the one thing you were never expecting -" Cas turned to Dean, eyes shining with glee. "Was Charlie Bradbury." He turned back to Luke and Crowley, revelling in their bemused expressions. "Tracking device. On the phone. Transmitting directly to the police. Any minute now..."

Luke suddenly sprang into action, leaping out of the chair.

"Get that phone-"

"COME OUT OF THE BUILDING. YOU ARE SURROUNDED. I REPEAT, WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED. COME OUT OF THE BUILDING AT ONCE, OR WE WILL ENTER AND OPEN FIRE."

In that moment, time seemed to slow. Dean looked up and met Cas' gaze and, in the panicked commotion, slowly stood up and made his way over to him. Cas' eyes never once left Dean's, not even when Dean wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in tightly. He was very aware that he was probably constricting Cas' breathing, but he didn't let go as he felt Cas reciprocate it the hug. As sirens and shouting and glass breaking erupted around them, Dean closed his eyes and reached into his mind. The darkness was completely gone.


	21. Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't actually believe we've come this far. I know I've said it before, but I honestly, literally could not have done it without all your support, so THANK YOU SO MUCH. The next fic I have coming up is an unrelated destiel college au, which will probably include more maturity (hint: by that I mean smut *wink wink*)
> 
> So, because it's the last chapter, I wanted to dedicate it to all of you. Your comments and feedback have kept me writing, and I'm so happy youu all enjoyed it.

Two Weeks Later

 

Dean flexed his fingers on the steering wheel, wincing when they stung with cold. Leaning forwards, he turned up the heat in the car, without taking his eyes off the road. He drove over a particularly slippery patch of ice, and the Impala whined and chugged.

"Sorry, Baby," he said, patting the headboard sympathetically. "We're almost home."

Honestly, he couldn't believe he'd made the trip out all the way into Kansas City. It was an hour there and an hour back, and in the icy, frosty weather, Baby wasn't coping so well. But he remembered the way Sam's face had lit up when Dean had suggested his idea, and he reminded himself that it was totally worth it. After the past four tumultuous months, they deserved a little happiness.

He sighed with relief as he pulled into the parking lot. For the millionth time, he wished fervently that he had a proper garage to store his car in, hating that he had to leave her out in the cold. He stepped out, immediately shivering as the chilly air hit him. Before he had time to take a step, however, Sam was racing out of the apartment building, the utter joy on his face enough to fill Dean's heart with cheer.

"Did you do it, Dean? Did you get it?" Sam questioned breathlessly, skidding to a halt beside him.

"Course I did, Sammy," Dean replied, chuckling. "Said I was gonna, didn't I?" He smiled as he watched his brother jump from foot to foot with excitement.

"Can we get it out and put it up...like right now?" Sam asked, hesitantly shy. Dean reached forward and ruffled his hair, surprised when Sam didn't object.

"Come on then, you little squirt."

"You need to stop calling me squirt, Dean. I have had a growth spurt."

"I know. It's pretty terrifying. Soon enough you'll be towering over me. And you may want to cut that hair of yours - you're getting pretty shaggy."

"You kidding me? I am never cutting this hair again. Besides...Jess likes it."

Dean roared with laughter, causing Sam to scowl. "Yeah, yeah, real mature. Can we just get it out now?"

"Patience, little brother." All the same, Dean made his way around the back of the car, followed closely by a jittering Sam. He opened the boot, turning to his brother.

"Help me with this thing, Sammy," he said. Together, they heaved the huge, rectangular cardboard box out of the boot and began to move towards the building. Sam staggered once, almost dropping it on the wet ground. Dean reprimanded him, and they bickered all the way to the building and up the stairs. Eventually, they made it into their apartment and dropped the box down in the middle of the living room.

Dean put his hands on his hips, catching his breath. "Phew. That was tiring. Shall we get the damn thing outta the box, then?" 

Just then, they were interrupted by the door opening and closing again. Dean closed his eyes, heart sinking.

"What's this?" John asked - thankfully not slurring. Dean opened his eyes and watched Sam bite his bottom lip and glance at Dean worriedly.

"Uh...Dean got it from Kansas City," he said tentatively. Dean heard John step forward and he emerged into Dean's line of sight, stopping next to him.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked.

"Um...probably?" Sam's voice was soft, as though he were treading on glass. Dean ground his teeth, preparing for the inevitable storm, when John moved into the kitchen, opening a drawer and taking out a pair of scissors. He looked between his two sons, expression just as hesitant as their's was.

"Well, then. Lets open up the box."

For the next two hours, the three Winchesters worked almost silently, gradually decorating. Dean glanced between Sam and John, tempering last year, when this had happened and the events that had unfolded after it. At first, the atmosphere was tense and rigid, but soon enough, they all relaxed into the exercise, even occasionally smiling at each other. It made Dean remember a time, long ago, when his mother had been holding him in her arms, eyes crinkling at the corners as she watched her husband work.

"Look, Dean," she'd said into his ear. "Daddy's going to make the place all festive."

Finally, they were done. They all stepped back, wanting to admire their handiwork. Dean wasn't going to lie. It took his breath away.

The tree. Or, more accurately, Christmas tree. It twinkled and shone in the corner of the living room. Silver, red and golden baubles were cluttered on the branches, glittering as the light caught them. Different shades of tinsel were draped around the green leaves while star-shaped ornaments hung off other branches, winking just like the constellations up in the sky. The tree stood tall and proud, and right at the top an angel rested on the highest branch, wings spread behind it.

Angel. That reminded Dean of somebody else. He looked up at the tiny statue, thinking about how, this time last year, he was about to get his heart broken. It was Christmas Eve, and that made Dean marvel at how much he'd changed in the past year. At this moment exactly twelve months ago, he'd been sat, brooding in his room, preparing to go to the Novak house the next day confront Cas about his distant behaviour. Strangely, thinking about that time no longer made Dean feel a physical ache in his chest. Rather, he was able to look back and think about how he'd healed. Despite everything, despite how hopeless it had been, in time, Cas had come back to him, and he'd stitched him back together.

In the past two weeks, Dean and Cas had been spending almost every waking moment together. Being with him, touching and kissing, it had made him realise what he'd been denying all his life. He couldn't believe how he had ignored the fact that he was in love with his best friend for years.

Now that Dean had stopped looking through a narrow lens, the way Cas acted, all his small mannerisms, they seemed accentuated. He found himself taking in every detail of him, from the way his dark, unruly hair fell over his forehead to how he tapped on hard surfaces when he was impatient. Dean was soaking in every part of him, as though he couldn't bear to ever forget a thing.

That night, Dean, Sam and John all went to bed, feeling peaceful and, for the first time in years, like the remnants of a family.

 

Dean was awoken by Sam leaping onto his bed and shaking him rigorously. He made a noise of protest and attempted to roll over into his pillow, but Sam pinched his arm, hard enough that he yelped and sat up, glaring. Sam grinned at him.

"Guess what?"

"What?" Dean asked, his voice still hoarse with tiredness.

"Dad actually got up early and he's making pancakes."

That made Dean sit up straighter, staring at Sam incredulously. "What?"

"Also, Jo and Ellen are here and Jo told me to go in and wake you up or she'd march in here and punch you until you'd woken up."

Dean rubbed at his face and ran a hand through his hair.

"All right. Just let me get dressed."

Five minutes later, Dean was dressed in jeans and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and he emerged from his room, greeted by Jo, her mouth full of pancake.

"Mornin' Dean!" she exclaimed, muffled by the food in her mouth. "'Ook, presents."

"Gross, Jo. You're spitting food on me."

Jo made a face at him and moved away to stuff herself with more pancakes. Ellen was sitting at the counter, sipping a mug of coffee and smiling at him. He smiled back and looked up to see his dad at the grill, flipping more pancakes in a pan. John turned around and, very cautiously, gave Dean a small, unsure smile.

"Good morning," he said. For several moments, Dean blinked at him, until he was aware he still hadn't said anything.

"Uh, good morning, Dad."

"Presents are under the tree," John said, nodding his head at where Sam was sat, shuffling through the gifts. It was rather ridiculous; Sam was a fifteen year old boy, yet whenever Christmas rolled around, he was three again. Dean smiled lopsidedly and walked over, sitting beside him. He reached over and pulled out a red-wrapped gift, handing it to his brother.

"This is the one I got you," he told him. Sam excitedly took it from him and ripped it open, practically squealing when he saw what it was.

"A new laptop! Oh my goodness, Dean. This is...it's amazing. I can't believe you got this for me."

"No problem, Sammy."

Sam licked his lips and pulled a green-wrapped package out of the pile.

"Here," he said, handing it to Dean.

"Y-you didn't have to get me anything you know," Dean said, all-of-a-sudden flustered. Sam punched him.

"Shut the hell up and unwrap your present."

Dean sighed and unwrapped the paper. He really hadn't been expecting to receive anything, but he realised now that that was stupid. Of course Sam would get him something.

He took the present out of the paper and couldn't hide a smile. Sam had gotten him a new leather jacket. God, judging by the material, it must have cost him a fortune.

"Wow...this is awesome. Thanks, Sammy."

Sam nudged him, smiling.

"I'm glad you like it."

Then, the doorbell rang. Dean got up to answer it, giving Jo her present as he went. He'd gotten her a Vampire Weekend shirt that she'd been eyeing in the store the week before. He made his way to the door, and as soon as he opened it, he relaxed, beaming. Cas, Gabriel, Anna and Balthazar stood in the doorway, holding presents. Gabriel immediately tackled him into a surprisingly tight hug.

"Sup, bro. Merry Christmas," he announced, patting him on the back.

"Oh, uh, hi Gabe," Dean said, taken aback by the display of affection. Gabriel pulled back, patting him on the chest and grinning slyly at Cas.

"Don't worry, Cassie. I'm not about to steal your man," he said. Cas's cheeks flushed pink and he glanced at Dean, who was fighting a smile.

"Come in, guys," he said, stepping back. 

They all entered the apartment and Dean thought about how much that family had been through. When the police had come to the warehouse, Crowley, Luke, Michael, Uriel and Zachariah had been arrested. Ever since, the Novaks' aunt Rachel had finally decided to come down from Georgia and look after the kids. Already, Dean had noticed the four of them grow lighter, as if they were finally relieved of a heavy weight. Cas was smiling more freely, and for that, Dean was immensely glad.

Cas sat down on the couch and looked up at Dean, gesturing for him to sit beside him. Dean obliged immediately, sitting down, eyes not once leaving Cas's face.ncas cleared his throat and gave Dean the wrapped present in his hands.

"I, um, I got you something. I hope you don't mind."

Dean carefully unwrapped it, and what was inside left him speechless. It was a photo album, and as Dean flicked through it, he found that it contained every picture of the two of them and Gabriel, Jo, Chuck, Pam, Benny and, more recently, Charlie too. He heard Cas swallow beside him.

"I started putting it together after we got back from Sauer Castle. I know it's not much, but-"

"Are you joking?" Dean asked, staring at him, wide-eyed. "Are you seriously joking right now? This is...probably the most thoughtful present anybody's ever given me." He was embarrassed to hear the raw emotion in his voice, and he looked away, suddenly feeling shy. He reached down and picked up the gift he had for Cas under the tree and gave it to him. 

"It's nowhere near as impressive as the one you got me, but - well, just open it."

Cas delicately opened up the wrapping paper and took out the small black box. He opened it and a beam spread across his face. Inside was a pure silver brooch, circular, with silver wings inside. It was encrusted with golden drops, and Cas fingered them. He turned to Dean, eyes shining.

"I - thank you, Dean. It's beautiful," he told him. Dean squirmed. He'd never been good with the whole sappy affection thing. He was shocked when Cas leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth in front of everybody, leaning back and smirking at Dean's expression. 

"Everybody!" declared Jo, interrupting them and drawing all the attention to herself. "You'll never guess what's happening in the town hall today! It's a dance! A Christmas dance! I don't care what you all say; we are going. I've already texted Charlie and the others. Just one thing, it's formal. So you'll all be dressing up."

Dean groaned. "No, Jo-"

"Suck it up, Winchester," Jo said, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Go and find your suit."

 

At one o' clock in the afternoon, Dean stood outside the town hall, fiddling with his tie.

"I still can't believe I'm going this," he grumbled to Sam, who blew out a puff of air and shook his head.

"Well, you'd better get used to it, and quickly. Because we're about to go inside."

Dean sighed and rubbed a hand over his jaw. Jo and Ellen and the Novaks had gone back to their homes to change for the dance and they were all meeting up in the town hall. John had already gone in and Dean was hanging back, desperately trying to put it off as long as he could. Fed up, Sam took him by the arm and yanked him forward.

"No - hey, wait - what're you doing-"

"I'm taking you in because you're too pathetic to walk in yourself."

It took some protesting, but Sam shoved Dean through the doors and Dean was blasted by Christmas music. The large entrance hall was decorated with festive tinsel and baubles - it was so extremely tacky that Dean fought not to roll his eyes. People were dancing along to the festive tune as Sam pushed Dean towards a table. 

He almost froze when he saw Cas. It was funny, but out of all the time he'd known the boy, he'd never once seen him wear a suit. He was in the traditional white shirt, black tie and black blazer and pants.

And, God...why was it so sexy?

Cas looked up, then, and when they made eye contact, Dean couldn't be sure, but he thought the same thing was going through Cas' mind.

Sam made a disgusted noise and shoved Dean towards him. The others all turned around and cheered. Cas' siblings were there, as well as Jo and Ellen, and so were Charlie, Chuck, Pam and Benny and their parents. Dean was pretty startled to see that the nurse from Charlie's house was with her. He had learned a couple of weeks ago that Charlie's mother was in a coma after a car crash, and he felt a twang of pain for his friend. She didn't deserve that.

Dean did another double take when he saw his father sitting at the table, talking to Ellen, a proper smile on his face. He looked...content, for the first time in Dean's memory. He felt a glimmer of hope, that maybe, just maybe, his dad was getting better. One step at a time.

For the next hour, they all sat around the table, chatting and joking and laughing. At some point, Jess arrived with her parents and she sat down next to Sam and casually took his hand. Dean opened his mouth to make a teasing comment, but was silenced by a look from Jo. He closed his mouth and looked sideways at Cas, whose lips were pressed together to avoid smiling. 

In that moment, as much of a cliche that it was, Dean realised that he was home.

Then, abruptly, the festive music was cut off, and in its place, a slow song began to play. Dean looked around, brow furrowed in confusion, and found Gabriel at the music station, grinning straight at him. A very disgruntled DJ was stood behind him, arms folded. Gabriel looked between Dean and Cas, giving them both a pointed look.

With horror, Dean shook his head, only to be cut off by a slow nod from Gabriel. He curled his hands in panic.

Around him, Jess was pulling Sam onto the dance floor, while Jo was doing the same to Benny. Pam put her drink down and hauled a terrified Chuck to his feet. Without giving Dean time to react, Charlie was grabbing both he and Cas up and pushing them towards the dance floor.

Cas was watching him from underneath his lashes, hesitant to do anything. Dean glanced around at all the couples slowly dancing, and then he gave in.

Taking a breath to steel himself, he took Cas's hand, watching his expression widen. 

"Dean?" he asked, still not sure.

"Just fucking dance with me, Cas."

Cas relaxed, mouth growing into a smile, and he placed his other hand on Dean's shoulder and Dean put his hand on Cas's waist. - carefully not paying attention to the fact that he could feel his hipbone with his thumb.

It started off awkward, with the both of them shuffling around each other, until they both fell into it, dancing slowly.  
"Are you happy, Dean?" Cas asked, his open expression proving the question's sincerity.

Dean was startled. He blinked twice, then looked around at all his friends, dancing and grinning. John and Ellen were even getting into it, swaying around the dance floor.

He looked back at Cas, at his deep, sapphire blue eyes and his soft mouth. He was staring at Dean with unabashed love and, not for the first time, Dean wondered what Cas found so special about him.

This was the boy who had constantly pulled him back from the edge. He'd pushed him away to protect him, but still had come back again to pick him back from the darkness. How funny, that out of the seven billion people on this earth, they had managed to find each other.

Instead of answering the question, he said, "I never told you. Why Lisa and I broke up in freshman year."

Cas seemed taken aback at the question. "You mean when she was yelling at you in the girls' bathroom?"

"Yeah."

"You always said it was because of 'creative differences'."

Dean let out a short laugh. "Yeah, I did. Want to know the real reason?"

Cas frowned. "Okay."

"It was because of you."

"I don't understand."

"She caught me laughing at something you said once, and seemed to think that the way I was looking at you was...more than platonic. She questioned me about it, and I, of course, replied with some smart comment. So she yelled at me about how I should have just told her that I was gay and that she wouldn't have had a problem with it but that I'd led her on and blah blah blah. The point I'm trying to make is, the evidence was right there. Right in front of my face. I mean, she'd accused me of being in love with you, and I hadn't even denied it."

Cas tensed up and Dean paused, wondering what he'd said wrong. 

"And...are you?" Cas asked. It took a moment for Dean to realise what he meant. Was he in love with him? He thought about blue eyes and trench coats and small, shared smiles. He thought about sobbing into Cas's shoulder and how, every time, Cas had stroked his hair and told him it was okay. He thought about long nights spent under the stars. The answer had been there all along.

"Well...yeah. I suppose I am. Will you look at that."

"I am too. In...love with you, I mean. I think I have been for a long time."

"Then, yes. Yes. I'm happy."

 

~The End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was it. That was the end. I must say, I'm going to miss writing in this world, but I know I have to move on. I'm really excited for my next story, and if you stick around the first chapter will be up in the next few days ;)


End file.
